Smile of the Tiger
by Avoncliffe
Summary: It's winter and Christmas is approaching. Harry's friends, Rupert Barrington-Smythe and Lady Arabella Cosgrove-Hartley are getting married and a weekend long celebration is planned. But then Arabella disappears. Dark forces are at work. Harry and Dempsey have to find her, and to complicate matters, Harry has to keep her involvement in SI-10 a secret from her friends.
1. Chapter 1

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**Prologue**

**1.**

Saturday, November 21st, 1987.

Jack Adams was ten years old this day and, being so close to Christmas, his parents had always given him the choice of either receiving most of his presents on his birthday, leaving the remainder for Christmas Day, or vice versa.

He usually chose the former. 'Why wait?' he thought.

He was also looking forward to the school term finishing at the end of the week, heralding the start of the Christmas holidays.

He'd opened many presents, amongst them books, jigsaws, a toy tank and a new football to replace the one the families pet Boxer, 'Butch' had burst when he'd chased after it, plunging his powerful jaws straight through the plastic cover.

But there were two gifts Jack treasured above the others.

His new bike and a pair of binoculars.

A few minutes earlier, he'd cycled along the lane outside his house, then pedalled furiously up a path that led to the hilltop and sat down on an old tree trunk, breathing hard.

Now, from this vantage point, he put the glasses to his eyes and surveyed the surrounding countryside, concentrating especially on the railway line that ran across his vision from east to west.

Parts of the land were low-lying, so an embankment had been constructed to keep the railway level, and the trains would thunder along it, often sounding their air horns, Jack loving the clippety clap of their wheels as they clattered over the joints in the rails.

It was a cold, crisp morning, the frost on the fields still brilliant white and sparkling in the weak sunshine, Jack's breath visible as vapour.

As he waited for the midday express, scanning the railway as far as he could see so as to spot it the second it came into view round a distant bend, he picked up a car travelling fast along the lane below him and heading for the lengthy tunnel that ran under the embankment.

Refocussing his lenses, he trained his glasses on it.

"Wow!" he said to himself. "A Bentley!"

He followed it, noting its dark blue bodywork and black windows, watching as it disappeared into the blackness.

He quickly aimed his binoculars on the lane where the car would come into view again, waiting for it to emerge and continue its speeding journey.

Given its pace, it shouldn't have taken very long, but after at least half a minute, the car still hadn't shown up.

Puzzled, Jack lowered his glasses and scanned the area with his naked eye, wondering if he'd missed it somehow, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Momentarily distracted by the oncoming express train as it came into view, he quickly put the binoculars to his eyes again and trailed it until it had disappeared into the distance.

Then, slinging the glasses around his neck, he jumped on his bicycle, free wheeled down to the lane and pedalled along to the tunnel, half expecting to see the car parked up and broken down.

Maybe he could go for help?

He skidded to a halt and stared.

The only thing in the tunnel were the yellow lamps, built into its roof to illuminate the darkened road.

The Bentley had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**2.**

Friday, November 20th, 1987.

It was eight-thirty in the evening and Harry and Dempsey were dining at 'Romano's' in Knightsbridge, their favourite Italian restaurant.

Sitting opposite them was one of Harry's close friends, Angela, and her boyfriend Ollie, their relationship having come on in leaps and bounds since meeting in the summer.

"Are you looking forward to Arabella's wedding, Harry?" asked Angela.

"Yes, very much." she replied. "They marry at eleven, then it's back to Hartley Hall by midday for the reception which goes on until the evening. Guests who weren't invited to the wedding arrive for a buffet with a live band and a disco afterwards. I shall be smooching with his nibs here, 'till he can't stand up!"

"Be careful what you wish for, honey." replied Dempsey, smiling. "No doubt I'll need some energy for later."

Harry didn't answer, just levelled her cool, seductive gaze at him, slipping off her shoe and rubbing her foot up and down his leg under the table.

"Where's everybody staying over night?" asked Ollie.

"Jonas has hired the whole of 'The Grange Hotel', plus all the rooms in 'The Mason's Arms." replied Harry. "We're staying in the house, though."

"There's a treasure hunt on the Sunday morning, isn't there?" asked Angela. "We're all in pairs, Ollie, so you'll have to get your thinking cap on."

"Yes and a dozen bottles of Crystal champagne for the winners, too." said Harry. "The runners up receive a bottle of 1945 Niepoort Vintage Port too."

"Crumbs!" exclaimed Angela. "Old Jonas isn't holding back is he. The whole thing must be costing a fortune!"

At Hartley Hall, Lady Arabella Cosgrove-Hartley was talking to her mother, Annabel.

"Mummy, I'm going into town tomorrow morning to do some shopping." she said. "Would you like to come with me? We could have afternoon tea in 'The Ritz' afterwards"

"Oh darling, I wished you'd told me earlier." replied Annabel. "I've arranged to play golf now."

"Oh well, never mind." said Arabella. "I'll see if Rupert wants to meet me then."

Rupert was relaxing in his penthouse apartment in Chelsea when her call came through, enjoying a glass of whisky whilst reading 'The Times', Gustav Holst's 'The Planet Suite' playing softly in the background.

"Hi Bella." he said, putting his paper down.

"Hello darling." said Arabella. "Fancy meeting me for tea in 'The Ritz' tomorrow at say three-thirty?"

"Love to." he replied. "What are you doing in town anyway?"

"Well if you must know, now that Mummy can't come with me, I've decided to look for something to wear for our wedding night." she whispered sexily down the 'phone.

"Oh really." he replied, instantly aroused, then whispering equally sexily. "I don't want to rain on your parade, but I'd rather you wore _nothing_ on a our wedding night."

"I can assure you, darling, it'll leave very little to the imagination!"

In his study, Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley's telephone started ringing.

"Yes?" he answered, sharply, his concentration disturbed. "Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley, who's this?"

"Ah, one of your partners, Lord Jonas." said a foreign, friendly sounding voice.

"Partners? I don't have any partners!" he replied, irritated. "What are you taking about, man?"

"You pledged a quarter of a million pounds to get our scheme off the ground." said the voice, then turning hard edged. "Where's our money!?"

"Who is this!?" demanded Jonas. "Speak up, man!"

"My name isn't important right now. Like I said, I'm one of your partners. We haven't actually met but I've been fully briefed by my team."

"Have it your own way! Look, I've studied your scheme since." replied Jonas, exasperated. "And it's fraudulent. It all sounded quite attractive when I spoke to your, er, colleagues, initially but after further consideration, I've decided against. Sorry. Now, I'm busy. I suggest you find another mug!"

"I really wouldn't take that attitude with me, Lord Jonas." said the voice, now turning sinister. "We've already set the ball rolling, based upon your verbal agreement. We, and you, I might add, stand to make many millions. We aren't prepared to stand by now and watch it crumble because you've had an attack of conscience!"

"Just what are you saying?" replied Jonas, now alarmed at the threatening tone that had replaced the friendly one earlier.

"Pay up, sit back and watch your investment increase at least ten fold or..." the voice paused.

"Yes? or what!?" demanded Jonas.

"Or you'll wish you had!"

"Are you threatening m..." The telephone went dead the other end.

"Bloody imbecile!" swore Jonas, angrily, but nevertheless, couldn't dismiss a feeling of foreboding.

Jonas had effectively verbally agreed to, what would become famous decades later, as a Ponzi scheme.

The cartel, his so called partners, was basically ahead of its time.

Initially, during the conversation, it had been explained to him that operations would commence as legitimate investment vehicles, such as hedge funds.

But, as he delved further at a later date, he realised that a hedge fund can degenerate if it unexpectedly loses money, or simply fails to legitimately earn the returns promised, or thought, to be expected, and the promoters, instead of admitting their failure to meet expectations, would fabricate false returns and, if necessary, produce fraudulent audit reports.

Quite understandably, he was horrified and swept it from his mind. Now it had been brought back in sharp focus and he wasn't altogether sure what to do about it.

Whenever Dempsey woke first, he always raised himself onto one elbow and looked down at the sleeping Harry, usually having to gently disentangle himself from her.

To him, she always looked at her most beautiful and tantalising then, her hair all tousled in sleep and her lips eminently kissable. And whenever he slowly lowered his lips to hers, she'd invariably wake up and fling her arms round his neck, pulling him to her, before pressing her body into him, her message unmistakeable.

This morning was no different.

At the end of the summer he'd not renewed the rent on his apartment and had moved in permanently with her. They were effectively a married couple in all but the certificate. And the actual wedding of course. But neither of them were in any rush to make it official, for now.

"What would you like to do today, darling?" she asked, flushed and happy from their lovemaking.

"It's a bright day, princess." he replied. "We could wrap up and go for a stroll in Regents Park, then lunch in that French bistro we found the other week. Whaddya say?"

"Yes, that'd be lovely." she replied, glancing at the bedside clock. "It's ten now. If we just have some toast and coffee, then get ready, we'll be thoroughly walked and hungry by lunchtime."

"Yep, sounds good to me." he said, smiling.

"I love you." she said, then pushed him away playfully and slipped out of bed, throwing on her dressing gown and making for the kitchen.

Dempsey showered, then walked through to join her, wearing a pair of boxers, a towel draped around his neck, his hair still half wet, half dry.

"Come here you hunk." she said, putting her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. She'd never felt such passion for a man, her love for him deep and fulfilling.

As far as Dempsey was concerned she made him feel as though he could walk on water.

Arabella, meanwhile, was in Soho, visiting numerous shops that sold sexy night wear, together with erotic accessories. She'd waited a long time to marry Rupert and was going to make their wedding night one he'd never forget.

It was approaching eleven o'clock when the man following her radioed his location to his accomplices by way of a walkie talkie hidden under his heavy winter coat.

Minutes later a dark blue Bentley Turbo R glided into the narrow one way street and cruised up alongside Arabella when she stopped to look in a shop window.

In a flash the rear door opened simultaneously as she was grabbed and bundled into the car, chloroform forced over her nose rendering her unconscious within seconds, the door closing quickly, its black glass hiding the brief struggle inside from any prying eyes.

Without rushing, the car continued to cruise to the end of the street, then, once on the main road, accelerated away.

Dempsey and Harry had thoroughly enjoyed their winter stroll through Regents Park and were looking forward to their lunch. Harry was looking especially stunning in a brown and white, full length faux fur coat with a hat to match (nothing would induce her to wear real fur) Dempsey in a beige full length, double breasted camel hair overcoat.

As they crossed the road to hail a taxi, the sound of air horns made them swing round. Pulling into the kerbside was Rupert in his recently acquired Aston Martin Vantage Volante, hood down and looking the part in a cap and sunglasses.

"Harriet, James!" he called. "How the devil are you both?"

"You look like the cats got the cream." said Harry, admiring the car. "What a beauty."

"Say what's under the hood?" asked Dempsey, admiring its gleaming black paint and cream leather.

"6.3 litre V8. Pushes out 450 horse power."

Dempsey whistled. "Must go like a stabbed rat!" he said, grinning.

"Hasn't Prince Charles just bought one of these, Rupert?" asked Harry.

"Yes in Balmoral Green." replied Rupert, then laughing. "Hugo is spitting feathers. He's always wanted one, but his father won't let him."

"I don't know, you two and your rivalry." chuckled Harry. "Where are you off to anyway."

"I'm meeting Bella in the Ritz this afternoon." he replied. "Just thought I'd give this a spin, then garage it back at the flat and cab it."

"Arrangements going to plan for the wedding?" asked Harry.

"Yes. Although I don't get too involved." replied Rupert, grinning. "Best to leave all that to Bella and her mother! Anyway, must be off. Good to see you."

He fired up the car and they watched as it growled it's way back into the traffic.

Rupert cruised around for a while, thoroughly enjoying his new car until, somewhat reluctantly, he headed back to Chelsea and parked it in his garage for the day.

Hailing a cab, he returned to central London and 'The Ritz' and made his way to the 'Palm Court'. It was three fifteen, so he whiled away fifteen more minutes people watching.

When three forty-five came and went, Rupert was feeling a little anoyed but when four o'clock came and went, he started to feel alarmed.

Arabella was never late, she always had to be on time whatever the occasion. He left his seat and went to the foyer, finding an available telephone in the numerous booths on offer.

Calling Hartley Hall, Jonas's butler, Watson, answered.

"Watson." said Rupert. "It's Rupert. Is Arabella there by any chance?"

"No sir." Watson replied. "She left about ten o'clock this morning and we weren't expecting her back until about five this afternoon."

"And she hasn't called either, obviously."

"No sir." confirmed Watson. "I'll see if his lordship has heard from her. One moment, please."

After a few minutes, he was back on the line.

"No, his lordship hasn't heard anything either."

"Alright, thanks Watson." replied Rupert. "She must be running late for some reason. Goodbye and thanks."

"You're welcome, sir. Goodbye"

Rupert went over to reception and briefly explained his problem, asking that they come and find him in the 'Palm Court' if Lady Arabella Cosgrove-Hartley should telephone."

All he could then do, was wait.

At four-thirty Jonas's telephone rang.

"Yes?" he answered. "Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley. Who's speaking?"

"Lord Jonas." said the same voice as earlier. "We have your daughter. She's unharmed and will stay that way, just so long as you do _exactly _as you're told.


	3. Chapter 3

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**3.**

Jonas remained silent.

"Good." said the voice. "Now I have your full attention, this whole matter is easily resolved. You pay your promised quarter of a million to us, we release your precious daughter unharmed, you then sit back and watch your investment grow and grow. What could be simpler, eh?"

Arabella was the apple of his eye and he didn't want to do anything that might jeopardise her safety. On the other hand, he also didn't want to just roll over and accept these demands.

He finally spoke.

"I know who you are, so how on earth do you think you can get away with this madness!" he growled.

"You don't know us actually, Lord Jonas." came the reply. "You met a couple of my team, but they aren't investors. Anyhow, we _will_ get away with it. You see, if you involve the police or, God forbid, some sleazy private eye, certain compromising photographs will arrive on the editor's desks of the leading Sunday newspapers."

"What compromising photographs!?" thundered Jonas. "What are you talking about, man!?"

"Photographs of you and, let's say, two rather naked, busty young ladies."

"I've never been with another woman since I married my wife!" replied Jonas, incredulously. "We've been happy together for thirty-five years!"

"Oh we know that, Lord Jonas." said the voice. "But these days one can do marvellous things with photographs, splicing here, splicing there. A picture paints a thousand words, my lord. The girls involved have been well rewarded and would swear on oath that you were with them for a whole night. So, do we have a deal?"

Jonas was speechless for a while.

"I want to speak to Arabella." he said, finally.

"I thought you might."

A few moments later, she was on the line.

"Daddy?" she said. "Please do as they say."

"Have they hurt you, darling?"

"No, I'm being well treated."

"Have you any idea where you might be?"

"No I..." The phone was snatched away.

"Now, now Lord Jonas." said the voice. "No silly questions. You know what you have to do. Oh, I nearly forgot. Apart from the snaps we have, you ought to know that you'll never see your daughter again. She will be sold into prostitution, regularly drugged and sent some place where you'll never find her. You have twenty-four hours to decide her fate."

The line was cut.

Over at 'The Ritz' Rupert was seriously concerned. Arabella was now more than an hour late, no call had come through for him and he was suspecting she could have been involved in some accident or other.

Perhaps she was lying in a hospital bed right now.

If that was the case her family would have been notified immediately. He returned to the lobby and called Hartley Hall again.

Watson answered.

"Hartley Hall, how may I be of help?" he said.

"Watson, it's Rupert again." he said. "Have you heard anything at all? Bella is over an hour late and I'm very worried."

"No sir." Watson said. "But I'll check if his lordship has received a call on his private number, although I'm sure we would know if something had happened to Lady Arabella."

A few moments later, Jonas came on the line.

"Rupert, I think you'd better come over." he said.

"Why sir, what's happened?" asked Rupert, now very alarmed.

"Not on the 'phone, Rupert." replied Jonas. "I'll explain when you get here."

Forty-five minutes later, he was in Jonas's study and listening with horror at what he was being told.

"Surely you're going to pay them." said Rupert, when Jonas had finished.

"Not if I don't have to, Rupert." came the reply. "If I do, then I expose myself to fraud and this family's name is destroyed, not to mention my company. We've been supplying fine wines to the aristocracy and the Royal Family for generations. And if these spurious, disgusting photographs got into the hands of the press we'd all be a laughing stock and ruined, make no mistake."

"But you can't risk Arabella's life!" exclaimed Rupert. "God, I can't bear this!"

"I know. I can't either, Rupert. And I'm as terrified as you are." replied Jonas. "These people aren't killers, however. I'm going to play for time. I know one or two very high ranking policemen."

"But you can't go to the police, not if they are watching you, which they are bound to be doing." said Rupert, indignantly.

"No, but you can." replied Jonas.

"How do we know I'm not being watched?" asked Rupert.

"We don't." Jonas replied. "But I'm going to tell them I'll pay up. That way they'll be lulled into a false sense of security. They're greedy. They want the money like yesterday. In the meantime, I'll be in touch with my police contacts and let you know our next move."

"What if your telephone is tapped?" asked Rupert.

"It isn't." said Jonas, pointing to a green one on his desk. "This one here is a secure line. No-one knows its number. I use it to speak to members of the Royal Family. It is constantly monitored by Special Branch. There's no possible way they could get at it."

In a private suite at the Hilton Hotel, five men sat at a table, two either side, one at its head.

The four sitting opposite one another consisted of Tony Hill, a hedge fund manager, Jonnie Jordan, a property developer, George Smith, a textile manufacturer and Jeremy Dawkins, a retired finance director.

The man presiding over this meeting was a Syrian in his late forties.

His name was Hani Ahmadi.

He had a full head of thick, black hair and deeply tanned skin. His eyebrows were bushy, his eyes dark brown and protected by hooded lids with long black, almost feminine, lashes attached to them. His nose was large and his lips full and when he smiled it was disarming.

It always put people at ease with him. But anyone who believed he was a pushover did so at their peril.

For his smile was the smile of the tiger.

If you crossed him, it was usually the last thing you saw before you died.

"We have the daughter." he was saying. "It won't be long before he pays us now."

"And if he doesn't?" asked Tony Hill.

"We threaten to kill her."

"Now just a minute, Hani." said Jeremy Dawkins. "I didn't sign up for that. You said nothing to any of us about murder!"

"I said we _threaten_ to kill her." replied Hani, smiling broadly. "It's just leverage, that's all."

"Are we really having to go to those lengths?" asked George Smith. "After all, we don't actually _need _his money, do we."

"It's a matter of principle." replied Hani. "No-one backs out on _me_!"

"At least he doesn't know our identities." said Hill. "Your two stooges are the only people he's seen, aren't they?"

"Yes." replied Hani. "I've always been cautious. I wasn't going to welcome him into this little group of ours until he'd paid up and was committed."

"Good thinking, Hani." replied Dawkins, nodding at the others. "Good thinking."

After Rupert had left, Jonas dialled a private number and spoke to the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, giving him chapter and verse of the whole scenario.

"My goodness, Jonas." he said. "You're playing a dangerous game with your daughter directly involved. But I can see the dilemma. Look, we've got twenty four hours before you have to go back to them. I'm going to pass this on to a specialist team. They're called SI-10 and have, probably, the finest team of detectives in the country. You'll hear shortly from Chief Superindendent Gordon Spikings. He runs the operation."

He then called Rupert and told him to expect either a call or a visit.

Dempsey and Harry were looking forward to a quiet evening in and Dempsey was about to light a log fire, when the telephone rang.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Sergeant." said Spikings. "I've just been handed a very tricky case, direct from the Commissioner himself. I want you and Dempsey here, pronto. I'll explain it all then."

"Yes sir." she said, rolling her eyes at Dempsey, who was poised to strike a match. "We're leaving now."

"What gives, honey?" he said, placing the dry match back in its box.

"Orders from on high, apparently." she replied, looking decidely put out. "Oh! And I was so looking forward to curling up with you in front a lovely roaring fire!"

Forty minutes later, they were in Spikings office being briefed.

"Sir." said Harry, after Spikings had finished. "Lady Arabella is a friend of mine, well, ours actually. She and her fiance were at our engagement party. I can't not be involved but, as you know, none of my friends are aware of what I do."

"I guess we can get around that." offered Dempsey. "All your friends know what I do, so they ain't gonna be surprised at you takin' a direct innerest in it with me. I'll just tell anyone who asks, that you're helpin' me."

"Yes, I think that would work now that your friends know you're an engaged couple." agreed Spikings.

"Ok so what's our first move." asked Dempsey.

"We have to try and piece together Lady Arabella's last known moves." suggested Spikings. "Where was she, what was she doing, when was the last anyone spoke to her."

"Our first call has to be with her family, in that case." said Harry. "Oh now wait a minute. We bumped into Rupert, didn't we. He was due to meet Arabella in the Ritz that afternoon."

"Did he say what time?" asked Spikings.

"No Chief, he didn't." replied Dempsey. "But we'd better get hold of him an' find out."

"We know where he lives." said Harry. "Come on Dempsey, we'd better get over there."

They drove over to Chelsea and Rupert's apartment block, noting his surprise at seeing them.

"I know you're a detective James." he said. "And I've been told to expect to be contacted. But how come you're involved in this?"

"I work for SI-10." explained Dempsey." It's a specialist undercover department within Special Branch. But this goes no further, Rupert. I'm only tellin' you this 'cos of your close connection to it all."

"Yes, I understand. But, I'm worried sick for Bella." he replied, close to tears. "If those who have kidnapped her, get the slightest inkling that Jonas has brought the police in, none of us will ever see her again."

"Don't worry 'bout that." replied Dempsey. "Like I said, we're an undercover operation. Only very few within the police themselves even know of our existence."

"And what are you doing here, Harriet?"

"Arabella is my friend, Rupert, as are you." replied Harry. "You honestly don't think I could stand by and watch, do you? James is my fiance and I'm here to help him. His boss has sanctioned it, knowing my personal interest. Don't forget, my family and the Cosgrove-Hartley's go back a long way too."

"Yes, of course Harriet, do forgive me." said Rupert. "And thank you."

"Ok, so when were you due to meet Arabella today?" asked Dempsey, eager to get on with it, now the explanations were out of the way.

"Three-thirty for tea in The Ritz." replied Rupert.

"And what was she doing in town exactly?" asked Harry.

"Shopping." replied Rupert, looking a little embarrassed. "Shopping for, erm...things for our wedding night."

"Ok, so sexy stuff, shortie nightdresses, for instance." suggested Dempsey.

"Actually from what I could make out, she was going for much racier things." remembered Rupert.

"That could mean Soho, then." replied Harry.

"Yeah." agreed Dempsey. "Ok Rupert, sit tight. We'll get into Soho first thing and do some diggin' around. See what we come up with. Just try and stay calm."

Back in the car, Harry suggested that, with no time like the present, they ought to get into Soho and see what they could come up with.

"It's only eight-thirty." she said. "It's Friday, so the shops will still be open. There maybe a shopkeeper who saw something today."

"Yeah, good call, angel." agreed Dempsey. "Could still be fresh in the memory."

Having cruised around for a while they chose a narrow, one way street to start their investigation. Ignoring the double yellow, no parking lines, they left the car and walked along the street, noting it was filled with sex shops selling all manner of erotic offerings.

Strolling into one, they were immediately approached by teenager wearing a black T shirt and black jeans, tattoos all over his arms and rings through his ears. The top of his head was bald, yet he had hair that started just above his ears and fell down to his shoulder blades.

Dempsey flashed his badge at him.

"'Ow can I 'elp yer then copper?" he asked.

"Were you here this afternoon?" asked Dempsey.

"Yeah." came the reply. "I been 'ere since nine this mornin', why?"

"Did you notice anythin' unusual around two-thirty, three o'clcock?"

"Unusual?" he asked. "Like what?"

"A scuffle outside, maybe a car blockin' the way?"

"Come to think of it, yeah." he replied. "I saw nothin' meself, but a girl came in 'ere an' swore anuvver girl had been forced into a car. Big Bentley it were, apparently."

"What time?" asked Harry.

"Erm...let me think." he said, rubbing his bald head. "I'd say 'bout three..ish."

"Did she say any more about what the girl looked like or what colour the car was?"

"Nah, 'cept the car was dark blue." he replied. "Oh, an' it 'ad black windows. She remembered the windows like, 'cos she couldn't see if the girl was bein' attacked or tryin' to fight someone off."

"So what did you do." asked Harry.

"Nuffin lady." he replied shrugging his shoulders. "'Ain't none of my business. Probably been a naughty girl and Daddy come to get 'er. I dunno."

"Ok, thanks pal." said Dempsey, taking Harry's hand as they exited.

"Hey, did you see that kinky stuff in there?" he said, glancing at her.

"Mmm, yes I did." she replied, glancing back at him and smiling. "Naughty wasn't it. I'll know where to come if we ever need to spice up our sex life."

"Huh." he replied, putting his arm round her waist. "Our sex life don't need no spicin' up!"

She giggled and kissed his cheek.

"I guess that's all we can do tonight, princess." he said. "We'll see if Traffic can pick up the car through the road cameras. We might be able to track it's movements and maybe even it's destination."

"That would at least be something." she replied. "God, I hope Arabella is okay. She must be terrified. We _have _to find her, Dempsey."

"Yeah I know." he said, but something told him it was going to be far from straight forward.


	4. Chapter 4

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**4.**

They were in the office bright and early the next day, Sunday, discussing the previous nights findings with Chas.

"We've gotta try and locate that car via a combo of CCTV and roadside cameras." said Dempsey. "Then track it as far as possible."

"It shouldn't be too difficult." replied Chas. "We've got a starting point, an approximate start time, and make and colour of car. I'll get straight on it and give my mate Jimmy in 'Traffic' a call. He's a wizard at things like this."

"Great!" replied Dempsey. "Get back to us, soon as."

"Copy that." replied Chas.

At Hartley Hall, Lady Annabel Cosgrove-Hartley hadn't slept all night for worrying about Arabella and was mentally drained as well as feeling physically exhausted.

Jonas had called the doctor over, explained there was a tragedy in the family but didn't elaborate. The doctor gave her a strong tablet and now, at last, she was sleeping soundly.

Arabella had slept, but only due to the fact that she was under partial sedation to keep her calm. She was locked up in a windowless room, with a single bed, small bedside cabinet, an armchair and en-suite toilet with shower.

Meals were brought every six hours and fed to her. A jug of water was always by her bed.

Rupert hadn't slept.

He spent the night pacing his apartment, feeling useless and helpless and it was only total exhaustion that sent him into fitful sleep at seven in the morning.

Jonas hadn't slept much either and was now talking to Spikings on his secure line.

"We've already established the location of your daughter's abduction, your Lordship." said Spikings. "And we have an accurate timeline, make and colour of the vehicle used and, I hope soon, a route the car took."

"Good." replied Jonas. "That's quick work, Chief Superintendent. I'm impressed."

"Thank you, sir." acknowledged Spikings. "I'll be in contact with you once we've more information. Your twenty-four hours are up at four-thirty this afternoon. I suggest you stall them for as long as possible."

"I intend to do just that." replied Jonas. "I only hope that if I do have to hand over the money, your team will have discovered exactly who is behind all of this."

"I hope so too." replied Spikings. "But with so little to go on, I really can't promise a quick result."

"No, I understand that, Chief Superintendent." said Jonas. "As you can imagine, I'm pretty stressed out right now."

"Yes, I'm not in the least surprised." replied Spikings. "Perhaps you can tell me though. When you entered into the original discussions, was there any mention of the company involved?" asked Spikings.

"No." replied Jonas. "It was an outline plan to which I was initially attracted. I merely said that if the proposal checked out, I'd pledge my money."

"And they've taken that as a guaranteed yes?" asked Spikings, incredulously.

"It appears so Chief Superintendent." replied Jonas. "I can only assume that a misunderstanding has occurred somewhere down the line."

"If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I find it all quite incredible." said Spikings. "Were these people British?"

"No." replied Jonas. "Middle Eastern. I think they operate in an entirely different way to us. One's word is one's bond, so to speak."

"And how did this meeting come about, sir?" asked Spikings.

"While I was at my club in London." explained Jonas. "I got talking to these two gentleman and that's when they mentioned their scheme."

"So it all appeared innocent." said Spikings. "But I wonder if you've been deliberately set up."

"It's a well known fact I am a wealthy man." replied Jonas. "Perhaps I was set up as you suggest. If it was just a straight forward case of ransom I'd pay immediately. But if they do intend to invest my money in this dreadful scam then... well, I dread to think of the ultimate consequences of that. But whatever the case, my daughter is in danger and we must get her back as soon as possible."

"Of course. Our strategy must be planned in order of priority." said Spikings. "Our first is to secure your daughter's release. If that means handing over your cash, then I'm afraid that will have to be done. But the longer you can stall them, the more time we'll have in tracking them down."

"I'll do what I can." agreed Jonas.

"Right sir." replied Spikings. "Call me when you've spoken to them."

"I will. Goodbye for now." said Jonas, replacing his receiver.

By midday, Chas had confirmed that 'Traffic' had picked up the blue Bentley on various cameras, cruising through Soho.

The first thing they did was check it's registration number, but the DVLC records showed it belonged to a 1964 Morris Minor.

Although they was no CCTV coverage in the narrow street where Arabella was snatched, they did spot it heading out of the city on the A12 to Chelmsford.

"We followed it through the town and making for Colchester. It went through a speed camera at eighty miles an hour near Witham but then it seemed to vanish into thin air." said Chas. "There's a lot of rural countryside round there, so it could be anywhere."

"Okay." said Dempsey. "At least we've got an area to work with. Come on Harry, we've got about four hours of daylight left to have a snoop around."

Within an hour they were midway between Chelmsford and Colchester, approaching Witham when they saw a tunnel ahead. Travelling through it, they motored on until Dempsey stopped the car, just past another Gatso camera.

Harry glanced over at him.

"Your nose telling you something, Dempsey?" she asked.

"Could be honey." he replied. "It's around about here we lost track of the car."

He radioed in to Chas.

"Chas, did you say you lost track of that Bentley around Witham?"

"Yes." he confirmed. "Just disappeared."

"There's a tunnel, then another camera a mile or so further on." said Dempsey. "Either the car slowed to go past it at the speed limit, or it didn't reach it at all."

"There are a few more Gatso's along that road, Dempsey." reported Chas. "It's a relatively fast stretch and the scene of several accidents. That's why it's monitored so closely."

"And none of 'em flashed the car?" he asked.

"No, none at all." confirmed Chas.

"Ok, thanks Chas." replied Dempsey.

"It seems odd that the car was travelling fast before it entered the tunnel, then appeared to slow to the speed limit, after it." mused Harry. "Otherwise the cameras would have picked it up again."

"Yeah, just what I was thinkin'" agreed Dempsey, nodding at her, then shaking his head. "Beats me princess."

He swung the car through one hundred and eighty degrees and accelerated back to the tunnel, slowing considerably as they went through it.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"It just don't make no sense." he said, rubbing a hand through his hair and repeating the same question. "Why would the goddam car be almost settin' the cameras on fire before the tunnel, then nothin' after it?"

"We can only assume it slowed to the speed limit, Dempsey." said Harry. "I don't see any other reason. It could be that Arabella is being kept hidden somewhere near here, which would explain why the car didn't want to be picked up by the cameras. Talk about so near yet so far!"

"If you're right, angel, then we'd better nosey around the farms in the area." suggested Dempsey. "They might have her holed up in a barn or deserted farmhouse. We gotta cuppla hours of daylight left, best make use of it, huh?"

They set about visiting all the likely places Arabella might be, but came up with a blank every time. Dusk found them driving back home and no further forward, baffled but certainly not beaten.

At four thirty on the dot, Jonas's office telephone started ringing.

Bracing himself he answered it.

"Cosgrove-Hartley." he said.

"Ah, Lord Jonas." said Hani, sounding as if he known him for years, then his voice changing in an instant and taking on a threatening tone. "Your time is up. And so is your daughters."

"Let me speak to her." he demanded. "I want to make sure she's unharmed."

There was a pause then Arabella came on the line.

"Daddy?" she said, sounding tired and somewhat disorientated.

"Arabella." said Jonas. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." she replied. "Are you coming to get me?"

"I am, darling." said Jonas. "Won't be long now."

Hani came back on the line. He'd obviously been listening via an extension.

"Do I take it that you are willing to pay us now?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll pay you." confirmed Jonas. "But I want to hand it over in cash. No traceable bank transfers. It'll take me a few days to raise the sum, so you'll have to bear with me. I can't set anything in motion until the bank opens in the morning. Then I have to arrange for some funds to come from accounts I hold abroad"

"You have until Thursday then, Lord Jonas." said Hani. "It's four forty-five now. I will call you at exactly this time. You will confirm you have the cash ready. I will then give you the arrangements for the exchange with your daughter. Do not try to cross me!"

The line went dead.

Jonas picked up his secure line and dialled Spikings.

"Who's that!?" he demanded.

"Chief Superintendent, its Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley." he said, a little taken aback at the way Spikings answered. "I've just agreed to raise the cash and have managed to stall them until this time on Thursday. I've spoken to my daughter. She sounds tired, but unharmed. Do you have any further news?"

Dempsey had already radioed in, so Spikings repeated their conversation.

"I see." said Jonas. "It does sound rather strange that the trail goes cold at that tunnel. I seem to recall something involving its construction many years ago. A friend of mine owns several acres in that area. I'll get in touch with him. Perhaps he can refresh my memory."

"We're working in the dark right now." said Spikings. "The car registration is false, so we can't trace its ownership. No names were given to you at the time of your meeting, neither was a company mentioned. So anything, no matter how insignificant, would be of help."

"Yes I understand." replied Jonas. "I'll call you tomorrow with anything I think could help you."

"Thank you, sir." said Spikings. "I look forward to that."

Hani Ahmadi had convened an extraordinary meeting with his four partners.

"Lord Jonas has agreed to pay up." he said, his charming smile radiant. "He will have the funds available by Thursday. I suggest we arrange the exchange with his daughter on Friday."

They all nodded their agreement.

"I will arrange for her to be taken to a safe house sometime soon." he said. "George, perhaps we could use your Jaguar. I don't want to risk the Bentley being seen. For all we know someone may have seen the actual abduction and given the police details of the car."

"But isn't the Bentley on false plates Hani?" asked George.

"Yes, but one can never be _too _careful eh?" replied Hani.

"You don't leave anything to chance, do you." said Tony Hill, the hedge fund manager.

"Certainly not." replied Hani. "Never!"

Dempsey and Harry arrived back home and while he was lighting the fire, Harry, after slipping Sade's 'Diamond Life' CD album into the player, poured some drinks, placing them on a low coffee table in front of the hearth and, sitting on a rug, her back resting against an armchair, curled her legs up under her.

With the fire taking hold, and the logs, dry as a bone, beginning to crackle, Dempsey sat on the rug opposite her, his legs stretched out under the table.

"Cheers darling." she said, raising her glass of white wine at him.

"Yeah, bottoms up, princess." replied Dempsey, raising his before taking a swig of whisky.

"I've always thought how rude that sounds." said Harry, giggling. "But when you say it, it sounds positively sexy!"

"You and your one track mind." he teased, grinning at her.

"Oh yes? I don't hear you complaining!" she fired back.

"And you never will." he replied, smiling and blowing her a kiss.

Disarmed and smiling back, she got up and moved round to his side of the table, sitting down next to him, his arm automatically going round her shoulder, her head automatically resting on his. She looked up at him, her eyes soft and blue and loving, her mouth slightly open, waiting for his lips to kiss hers.

He didn't disappoint.

As his hands began exploring her, she felt as though she were melting, his touch sending spasms of ecstasy through her, her body tingling and shivering with mounting pleasure.

By the light of the roaring fire, they slowly undressed each other, the soft, dense pile of the rug feeling luxurious on their naked skin, while their passion burned as hot as the flames.


	5. Chapter 5

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**5.**

First thing on Monday morning, Jonas was on his secure line to a long standing friend, Sir Malcolm Parry, with whom he graduated from Cambridge University in the thirties.

"CH old boy!" said Sir Malcolm on hearing Jonas's voice. "Not spoken for a while. How goes it?"

"Much the same as always, Parry old man." replied Jonas.

"And hows the gorgeous Annabel?" asked Sir Malcolm. "Always said you were punching above yer weight there!"

"Very well." lied Jonas, remembering how she spent the night sobbing for Arabella. "Been punching above me weight for thirty-five years in that case!"

"Good show, old boy!" replied Sir Malcolm. "Do give her a huge smacker from me, will you? So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"A bit of info actually." replied Jonas. "You still own the land around Witham in Essex don't you?"

"Yes, I do." confirmed Sir Malcolm. "One day I hope they might use some of it to build houses on. Why the interest?"

Jonas couldn't tell him the true reason, so had to make one up and hoped when, or if, the truth came out, their long standing friendship would weather any upset between them.

"Because I may know a property developer who could be interested in doing just that." he lied. "But I seem to remember there was some sort of problem with the tunnel that goes under the embankment."

"Well it wasn't the tunnel, old man." replied Sir Malcolm. "The embankment itself was the problem."

"Why so?" asked Jonas.

"After the embankment had been finished, they started to construct the tunnel, but part of it collapsed, burying two engineers. Sadly they lost their lives. Tragic, tragic!"

"Now I remember that story, but I didn't equate it to Witham." said Jonas. "Long time ago now."

"Yes, twenty-five years." confirmed Sir Malcolm. "Anyway, it turned out the nature of the soil changed above where the tunnel was being dug out and to such an extent that it caved in."

"So what happened then?" asked Jonas.

"The tunnel had to be shored up and abandoned." replied Sir Malcolm. "No-one was going to risk it collapsing on traffic travelling through no matter how secure the repair work had been. So a new one was constructed. Meant the road had to be re-routed and all sorts. Quite a hoo hah at the time, I can tell you."

"Presumably the soil was proved safe?" asked Jonas.

"Absolutely!" said Sir Malcolm, chuckling. "It's probably the safest tunnel in the world now!"

"Would you still have the original plans?" asked Jonas. "My contact will want some reassurance."

"Of course, old man!" replied Sir Malcolm. "I'll send you both sets. Before and after, how's that?"

"Perfect, thanks. But could you courier them to me today, Parry? No time to waste and all that." replied Jonas.

"Will do." agreed Sir Malcolm. "Should be with you by lunchtime."

"Excellent." replied Jonas. "We must get together for that drink. I'll be in touch."

"Jolly good." he replied. "TTFN."

The previous night, Hani had received a call from his two henchmen guarding Arabella.

"Sir." said one. "The air is getting stale now the air conditioning generator has failed. Your instructions are required."

"Will you survive the night?" asked Hani.

"Yes but first thing would be a good time to move her."

"Expect a car then."

The next morning, at the time Jonas was talking with Sir Malcolm, a maroon Jaguar XJ6 saloon was exiting the tunnel with Arabella slumped, half conscious, in the back seat.

"We've got her out of there just in time." said the driver. "Is she okay?"

The front seat passenger glanced round at her.

"Yeah, she seems okay now. Breathing normally."

"Best get back there and tie her wrists together, just to be on the safe side. Don't want her waking up and screaming blue murder now, do we." said the driver. "When we get to the house, throw a hood over her head, okay?"

The passenger clambered over his seat and into the rear. Sitting next to Arabella, who put up little resistance, he pulled some cable ties out of his pocket and secured her wrists.

As they entered the city and made for the house in Mayfair, he covered her head with a black hood, then made sure she was lying flat and out of sight.

Approaching the house, the driver took hold of a remote device, pressed a button and pointed it at the garage doors, which opened automatically. He brought the car to a halt inside, the doors then going into reverse and closing behind them.

The garage lights, triggered by the car passing through a beam, switched on. Arabella was hauled out of her seat, carried into the house, laid on a bed in a spacious bedroom and her cable ties cut off.

The two men locked the door, then joined Hani in a cavernous and luxurious lounge.

"How is the girl?" he asked.

"Ok now." answered one.

"Did you wipe everywhere clean?" asked Hani.

"Yes sir. Thoroughly." came the answer. "Nothing would be found if the place was ever discovered."

"Good, you may go." said Hani. "I'll see to the girl now."

Dempsey and Harry were in Spikings' office when Jonas called. He listened intently to what he was being told and, after thanking him and signing off, looked at them with raised eyebrows.

"It appears there could be another part finished tunnel running adjacent to the existing one." he said and repeated what Jonas had told him. "He's having the plans couriered to him by lunchtime. His butler will then re-direct them to us."

Dempsey was all for going straight back to the tunnel there and then.

"Don't be daft, Dempsey." said Harry, grinning at his impatience. "I think we'll find it a lot easier if we actually had some plans with us, don't you?"

"Yeah okay okay." he acknowledged, grudgingly. "Guess you're right."

When the despatch rider delivered them, they were spread out on Spikings desk and studied closely. They soon pinpointed exactly where the original tunnel entrance was located.

"Ok." said Dempsey. "If we assume the Bentley never exited the tunnel but somehow found its way into that abandoned one, we'll have discovered where Arabella's been taken."

"It certainly looks that way, Lieutenant." agreed Spikings. "But just how you get in there is anyone's guess."

"We ain't gonna find out sittin' round here." said Dempsey. "Harry 'an I'll get over there now, see what we can come up with."

"Hang on Dempsey!" ordered Spikings. "Just think this through. If that old tunnel has indeed been accessed, the question is - how? It must mean part of the wall in there is false. And if that's the case, how is it opened?"

"A false wall!? In that tunnel!?" asked Harry, disbelievingly. "That sounds a bit sci-fi doesn't it?"

"Who's to know whether it was put in place during the original re-construction?" asked Spikings. "For all we know it could have existed for the last twenty-five years and been used to hide all manner of things. Drugs, stolen money, cars, contraband, people?"

"I guess it's possible." agreed Dempsey, glancing across at a still sceptical Harry. "Okay, so assumin' that's the case, just how _does_ it get opened?"

"Must be by some sort of remote control?" suggested Spikings. "Same as you'd use to open garage doors for instance. Go down to 'Technical' and get hold of one of their multiple code breaking devices. They're the equivalent to a bunch of skeleton keys. Then take a forensics team with you and see if you can get into that abandoned tunnel."

Two hours later saw Dempsey, Harry and a team of four parked up inside the tunnel, their vehicles cordoned off and a temporary traffic light system in operation.

One of the vans was stationed at a point along the wall where, indicated by the plans, the original entrance had been located, an awning stretching across the area and hiding the activity within.

Confirmation, if any were needed, that they were in the right place was the simple task of tapping the walls. It soon became apparent that the entrance was made out of wood and fibre glass and expertly camourflaged to resemble the stone used for the rest of the tunnel.

Then it was a straight forward case of putting the code breaker to work.

They watched as the device began displaying a rapid selection of numbers in red and when it detected a correct one, the number turned green.

Eventually it stopped, a series of six green numerals glowing in the darkness.

Simultaneously, a section of the wall, roughly eight foot square, suddenly began sliding upwards, rolling in on itself as it reached its arc and leaving a huge black space.

"My God." said Harry, open mouthed in astonishment. "I've seen everything now!"

Seconds later, ceiling lamps flickered on, lighting the interior. They all walked in, Dempsey and Harry drawing their weapons, and moving deeper into the tunnel.

"You got that remote device with you?" asked Dempsey, turning to one of the accompanying team.

"Yes." came the reply as the wall behind them began to close.

"Then open the goddam door before we suffocate will ya!" ordered Dempsey and waited while his instructions were carried out.

Continuing on, they eventually reached what looked like a dead end but turned out to be another false wall, with a single door cut into it. Finding it locked, Dempsey kicked it hard, the lock splintering and the door swinging open.

Inside was the bedroom Arabella had spent the last few days locked up in.

"Hallelujah!" exclaimed Dempsey. "We've found where Arabella's been kept, but they've moved her out, dammit!"

"Okay boys, get to work." ordered Harry to the forensic team. "We need fingerprints, DNA, anything to identify just who's been in here other than Arabella."

Despite a thorough and expert search, the entire place had been wiped clean. Not a scrap of evidence was found and it was a somewhat dejected team who packed up and returned to SI-10.

"We ain't dealin' here with a bunch of amateurs, Chief." Dempsey was saying as he and Harry briefed Spikings. "That room was cleaner than a goddam operatin' theatre!"

"If they've moved Arabella sir, perhaps they used the Bentley again." suggested Harry. "Maybe we could pick it up on the cameras?"

"We can certainly try, Sergeant." replied Spikings. "But it'd be like looking for a needle in a loft stacked with hay, I'm afraid."

"We have nothing else to go on." she answered, flatly.

Rupert had heard nothing from Jonas since their initial meeting a few days previously and he was at the point whereby he'd throw caution to the wind and either call him, thus risk being overheard, or drive out to Hartley Hall where he'd run the risk of being seen.

Suddenly though, his telephone rang.

"Rupert. It's Jonas." he said. "Forgive me for not being in touch sooner."

"I must say I was getting to the point of no return, sir!" replied Rupert. "Have you any news?"

"Yes and no." replied Jonas. "SI-10 found the car that took Arabella away and tracked it as far as they could. Then, through an old friend of mine, we discovered where she'd been locked up but when the detectives got there, she'd been moved."

"So we're no further forward." said Rupert.

"No we're not." replied Jonas. "But I'm paying up on Thursday, so she will be back safe and sound by then."

"Oh, thank God." said Rupert, close to shedding tears of relief. "Can I be of help in any way?"

"No, not right now." replied Jonas. "But I'll call if I need you. Just try not to worry. I don't intend to let anything get in the way of having Arabella returned to us."

At the house in Mayfair, Arabella was fully conscious and wondering exactly where she was, when the door was unlocked, Hani walking in.

"Ah, so you're awake my dear." he said, smiling broadly. "I expect you're hungry and thirsty?"

"Where am I?" she replied, anxiously. "What is this place?"

"It is somewhere you will stay until my business with your father is concluded." he said. "Then you will be home with him and the rest of your family. So don't give me any trouble and all will be well."

"Why am I involved in business you're doing with my father?" she asked. "I don't understand."

"You can ask him when you see him." replied Hani, his smile warm, his eyes cold, his tone turning hard. "Just don't ask me any more questions."

"Why not!?" she demanded, oblivious to the potential danger in this man. "Why can't I ask _you_! _You _are the reason I've been put through hell these last few days!"

"You have _not _been put through hell, young lady." replied Hani. "You've spent most of the time asleep, deliberately so, to calm you."

"To calm me!" shouted Arabella, anything but calm now. "You've _drugged_ me for days! I've been locked up against my will, fed disgusting food and have been in the same clothes for ever!"

Hani had had enough.

He gripped her wrists and levelled a murderous gaze at her.

"Say one more word and I guarantee you will _not_, I repeat _not_, see your family ever again!"

Arabella stared at him.

Suddenly she realized she was dealing with a highly dangerous man.

"Now." said Hani, smiling once more. "You do exactly as you are told, no more hysterics, no more questions, stay quiet and you'll soon be out of here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y..Yes." stuttered Arabella, tears welling up in her eyes.

"There's a good girl." he said. "Now, are you hungry my dear?"

She shook her head, then lay down on the bed and curled herself into a ball, her sobs taking hold.

Unconcerned, Hani got up and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Walking back into the lounge, he went to a purpose built bar and mixed himself a 'Bloody Mary', strong on the vodka, light on the tomato juice and with just a dash of Worcestershire sauce.

Turning to one of his bodyguards he said.

"Drug the girl. I want no more trouble from that little bitch!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**6.**

Chas had joined Dempsey and Harry in Spikings' office and had overheard Harry complaining that they had little or nothing to go on in trying to locate Arabella.

"Didn't you say there was a witness to her being bundled into that Bentley?" he asked.

Dempsey smacked his forehead.

"Yeah. You remember that don't ya, Harry?" he said. "That bozo in the sex shop told us."

"Yes I do." admitted Harry. "We were a bit preoccupied with the description of the car at the time though, weren't we."

"We were, yeah." agreed Dempsey. "But we oughta check her out. She may have seen somethin' that could help us."

"Follow that up then you two." ordered Spikings. "If you find her, she may be able to give us a description of the kidnappers."

"We must be slippin' princess." he said, as they drove over to Soho. "We shoulda thought 'bout findin' that witness, not have Chas remind us."

"I wasn't going to say anything in front of him and Spikings, but I suspect your attention was diverted elsewhere in that sex shop at the time." she replied, glancing across at him with a knowing look in her eye.

"Oh and yours wasn't?" he countered, returning her gaze.

"Okay, touche." she said. "But it is unforgiveable and unproffessional of both of us."

"Yeah, slaps on the wrists huh?" he replied, trying to look deadly serious but failing miserably. "You gotta admit there sure was some kinky stuff in there."

"Enough to make my eyes water, certainly!" she said. "Anyway, we're here. Turn a blind eye this time, Dempsey. Please?"

They parked outside the shop and found the same tattoo'd, multi-pierced creature as before.

"Can't stay away eh?" he said, recognising Harry. "Got some new stuff in now. Wanna see it?"

"No thanks." she replied, staring at him, coldly. "What we do want is some more information."

"Yeah? What information?"

"You told us a woman came in here who'd witnessed a kidnappin'." said Dempsey. "Did she buy anythin'?"

"I don't bloody know!" replied the assistant. "I can't remember everybody who comes in 'ere buyin' stuff."

Dempsey stood up close to him, staring him down, his eyes hard and threatening.

"Well try, dumbass!" he said, opening the front of his jacket, the handle of his Magnum clearly visible in his shoulder holster.

The assistant swallowed, his bravado well and truly leeched.

"Okay okay." he said, scratching his bald head. "No need to get heavy."

"We're waitin' slap 'ed." said Dempsey, getting impatient.

"Yeah I remember." said the assistant. "We don't get many women in 'ere. Mainly blokes. She was well dressed too and middle-aged. She bought..."

"We don't need to know what she bought." said Harry. "We do need her details. Name and address, please."

Hold on a sec then." he said and walked to the rear of the shop, Dempsey and Harry following. He took out a book of receipt slips and trawled through them eventually arriving at the one he was searching for.

"Here it is." he said, holding the small book open at the relevant page. "Mrs T Danvers. No address, though. She paid cash. Probably not even her real name."

"How do you know that's the same person we're looking for?" asked Harry.

"'Cos she bought a complete dominatrix outfit, basque, whips, masks - the works." he said, grinning lecherously at her. "Most people buy bits of it. This lady didn't. That's why I remember 'er."

"Wipe that goddam grin of ya face or I'll do it for ya!" said Dempsey, glaring at him.

"Ok, ok lighten up, mate." replied the assistant, looking instantly solemn.

"That's better." said Dempsey, turning on his heel, then putting an arm round Harry's waist as they walked out of the shop.

"Every time we get somewhere close, a lead shuts down!" she said, exasperated, as she slammed the car door.

"Yeah." agreed Dempsey. "I guess we'll just have to hope somethin' comes up when Arabella is handed over on Thursday."

"Spikings hasn't said anything about us being involved in that, Dempsey." reminded Harry. "And if we are, we'd better be super invisible."

"We've gotta be involved, angel." said Dempsey. "How else are we gonna catch these meatheads?"

"I don't know." she replied. "Until we know the details of the exchange we can't plan a thing. Talk about frustrating!"

"So we're just gonna be sittin' on our butts an' twiddlin' our thumbs for the next three days!?"

"Looks like it." said Harry. "Unless you've got a chrystal ball, that's exactly what we're going to be doing."

With nothing to go on, they had to wait until the kidnappers made the next move and, as expected, that came about at the pre-determined time of four forty-five Thursday afternoon.

Along with Jonas and Lady Annabel, who had strengthened her resolve for the sake of her sanity, Dempsey, Harry, Spikings and Rupert were all gathered together in Jonas's study when the call came through from Hani.

"I trust you have the money ready, Lord Jonas?" he said. "And I trust it is also in unmarked notes. We wouldn't want the authorities tracking it, now would we."

"You have my word." replied Jonas. "I just want my daughter back. And she had better be in good health, otherwise I _will _track you down if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Yes, yes, quite understandable." said Hani. "She's a little sleepy, but other than that, totally unharmed. Now, are you familiar with Middle Dock on the A1206 in the East London Docklands?"

"No, I'm not." replied Jonas. "But I'm sure I can find it."

"Yes you'll find it." said Hani. "There's a disused warehouse there. We will meet you inside it at ten am tomorrow morning. Be sure you come alone, because if you don't the following will happen. One, you will not see your daughter again. And two, certain photographs will be delivered to all the national newspaper groups in Fleet Street. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly so." replied Jonas, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. "I want to speak to Arabella."

"As I said she's sleepy right now." said Hani. "But you have my word she is quite well. It is not in my interests to have her any other way."

"I swear to God I'll..."

"Yes, I know what you'll do, Lord Jonas." interrupted Hani. "Until tomorrow then."

The line went dead.

As the crow flies, the distance from London to Paris was just over two hundred miles and by road, nearly three hundred.

The Avenue Montaigne in the 8th Arrondissement runs from the Place de la Concorde to the Place de l'Etoile and boasts the home of the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Élysées and Place de la Concorde, together with a selection of very expensive bourgeois and grand homes.

One of these was owned by Philipe de Cadenet.

His family tree stretched back to the reign of Louis 1V and, although born into wealth and privilege in 1946, by the mid sixties he had turned his back on it all, preferring the excitement of crime to the staid straight jacket of the families banking business.

Disinherited and cast adrift by his father, Philipe, aged 20, entered the Parisian underworld, rising swiftly in its ranks to become second in command to Jean-Luc Dubois, the feared and reviled head of the most vicious crime families Paris had ever seen.

Loved like a son, Philipe had replaced him as the organisations head when Jean-Luc retired in 1976 and in the last eleven years had doubled its profits, year on year, mainly due to adding drug supply to its portfolio of prostitution, the making, distribution and sale of pornographic films, gambling, brothels, loan sharking plus several night clubs, casinos, restaurants, cocktail bars and bistros to launder all the cash.

Always conscious of the pennies looking after the pounds, Hani Ahmadi owed Philipe half a million dollars for drugs he'd supplied him but not paid for.

Half a million was nothing - it was small change - but the debt had been outstanding for a month now and Philipe wanted it settled.

He knew how slippery Ahmadi could be, but the tentacles of his organisation reached far and wide and he'd got wind of Hani's latest wheeze involving the fraudulent investment scheme, but he knew nothing of Arabella's kidnapping.

At the time of Hani's telephone conversation with Jonas, a dark grey Mercedes 500SE saloon had disembarked from the cross channel ferry at Dover and was travelling to London.

It's destination was the Mayfair house.

Inside were four of Philipe's hand picked ex legionnaires, tough, uncompromising individuals who took no prisoners.

When they arrived they parked the car in front of the electronic garage doors and moved round to the rear of the property, prizing open a back door with ease and slipping inside.

Discovering Hani's two bodyguards in the kitchen, they swiftly overpowered them, tieing them up and gagging their mouths.

Hani was being entertained by two high class prostitutes when the four Frenchmen appeared in the lounge, weapons drawn, each with silencers fitted.

"Quitter!" demanded Rene, the assumed leader of the four, to the two girls, who screamed, gathered their clothes and ran out of the room.

"Mettre votre pantalon sur. Vite!" he ordered Hani, who, calmly, did as he was told and pulled on his trousers.

"Se lever!" said Rene, gesturing upwards with his gun.

"Parlez vous anglais?" asked Hani, standing up as ordered.

"Un peu." replied Rene.

"I have a young girl in a bedroom." said Hani, speaking slowly. "My hostage. She is worth a quarter of a million pounds which I will collect tomorrow."

"Show me!" demanded Rene, jabbing the point of his revolver into Hani's ribs.

They followed him through to Arabella's bedroom where she lay from having been given a recent sleeping drug. Her presence being an unexpected development, Rene needed to speak to Philipe.

Gesturing back the way they came, they returned to the lounge, Rene picking up the telephone and dialling.

After a brief conversation in French, he beckoned Hani to the 'phone, handing it to him when he reached for it.

"Hani Ahmadi." said Philipe, in English. "You owe me half a million dollars and your time is up. I know all about your present scam but why do you have a young girl hostage?"

"She is my security." Hani explained. "Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley is her father and I am extorting half a million pounds out of him tomorrow for her return."

Philipe had been consulting his latest copy of 'Who's Who' while he listened.

"Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley is a very rich man." said Philipe, eventually. "She is worth a lot more than a quarter of a million pounds to him. You will not meet your rendezvous tomorrow. Instead you will telephone this Lord Cosgrove-Hartley and tell him the price for his daughters freedom has just gone up to five million pounds!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**7.**

Dempsey, Harry and Rupert had stayed over at Hartley Hall, Harry spending most of the night comforting Lady Annabel.

At eight o'clock they were all gathered in the drawing room when the main house 'phone rang, Jonas answering it quickly before Wilson could.

"Cosgrove-Hartley" he said.

"Lord Jonas." said Hani, his voice sounding smooth and calm. "There's been a change of circumstance."

"What!?" replied Jonas, his tone immediately alerting the others that something was wrong. "What change of circumstance?"

"The details are unimportant." said Hani. "All you need to know is the price of your daughters freedom has just gone up to five million pounds."

Jonas went pale, then red, then exploded.

"What!?" he shouted. "We had a deal! What the hell is going on!?"

"As I have said, the details are irrelevant." replied Hani, conscious of the revolver pointing directly at his forehead. "How long before you can raise the money?"

Jonas had taken a series of deep breaths, the additional volume of air helping to clear his brain and control the shock of this new, unexpected twist.

"I'm not saying any more until _you_ tell me _exactly _what has changed!" he fumed.

"Lord Jonas." replied Hani, calmly, the smile in his voice unmistakeable. "You are in no position to ask questions. We are simply talking about the sum of money required to effect the safe release of your daughter. Everything else remains the same, the photos, the investment - all of it is still in play. Now, _how long_!?"

"Do you really think I have that sum of money lying around!?" replied Jonas. "Until I speak to my accountant and my bank, I have no idea, right now, just how long it will take to raise five million pounds!"

At that revelation, Lady Annabel's legs gave way as she began to faint, Dempsey catching her before she fell and sitting her down, gently, in an armchair.

"Rupert." he said. "Get a glass of water."

As Rupert rushed out of the room, Hani was replying

"I will call you back at twelve noon." he said. "Be sure to have your answer ready and in the affirmative!"

The line went dead.

Rupert returned with a jug of water and an empty glass, Harry taking them off him and tending to Lady Annabel.

Dempsey looked at Jonas.

"Sir." he said. "I think it's about time we threw caution to the wind 'an got some of our guys in here to try and trace that next call. I don' think this place is bein' watched."

"I tend to agree with you, James." replied Jonas. "Go ahead and organise it. Use my private line in the office. It's the green telephone."

"Won't Special Branch be listening in, sir?" asked Rupert

"Yes, but they know SI-10 are here." replied Jonas. "The Commissioner has brought them all up to speed with what's been going on."

Dempsey disappeared into Jonas's office and put a call through to Chas, informing him of the latest developments and the urgent need to set up a phone trace.

"Ok Dempsey." replied Chas. "I'm on it. Expect the guys within the hour."

Back in the drawing room, he confirmed a team would be with them shortly and asked Jonas.

"How long _will_ it take to raise that kind of money?"

"Probably no longer than a day or two." replied Jonas.

"In that case, tell 'em a week." suggested Dempsey. "We need to buy time."

"I don't think they'll believe that, James." said Jonas.

"Yeah they will." replied Dempsey. "We got the weekend to play with. I'm guessin' your influence won't hold up gettin' the money together, but these monkeys don' know that and it gives us two extra days."

After the two call girls, who had been entertaining Hani, had hurriedly left, they immediately returned to their usual haunts, one of which was the 'Pink Parrot', the pub that Harry had been working undercover in when she and Dempsey first met.

Winnie Simons happened to be in there the following lunchtime and called them over to her table where she was negotiating with a prospective client.

"'Ey! Rita, Gloria, over 'ere!" she called, pointing to two empty seats next to her.

"'Ello Winnie." said Rita. "'Ow's yer doin' gel?"

"Can't complain, luv." replied Winnie. "Got a gentleman 'ere wants two more gels to make up a party tonight. You up for it?"

"Yeah, sure. Usual rates?" asked Gloria, smiling at the guy.

"Yep. All nighters." said Winnie, rubbing her hand up and down the mans leg. "There yer go, mate. All sorted. See yer in 'ere at eight."

After the client had gone, Rita told Winnie about their close call at Hani's house.

"What? They had shooters 'an all!?" asked Winnie, always keen to hear juicy stories.

"Yeh!" said Gloria. "Proper tooled up they were. And French!"

"Froggies!?" exclaimed Winnie. "Bloody 'ell. Wonder what they wanted?"

"Dunno." answered Rita. "But me and Glo got outta there quick as yer like!"

"Yeah, somefink big was goin' down, I reckon." said Gloria.

"Too right." agreed Rita. "Fella we was with was all cool, but when those Frenchie buggers showed up he turned well nervous."

Winnie and Harry had developed a working relationship since she'd discovered Harry was a detective and, once back in her flat, put a call through to SI-10.

The message got to Harry at Hartley Hall, so she called Winnie back from Jonas's office.

"Winnie?" she said. "It's Harry."

"'Ello darlin'" replied Winnie. "'Ow's that hunky Yanka yours?"

"I'm marrying him." replied Harry, waiting for the explosion the other end.

"Whoo hooo! That's the best bleedin' news I've 'ad for weeks!" said Winnie. "Done the business then girl. Good on yer!"

"Yes, well, thanks Winnie." said Harry, laughing. "Anyway you called me. What's up?"

Winnie related Rita and Gloria's experiences to her.

"Where was this?" asked Harry, suddenly deadly serious.

"A gaff in Mayfair." answered Winnie. "It sounded a bit iffy, so thought I'd better tell yer 'bout it."

"Have you got an address?" asked Harry.

"Oh no, I didn't ask that, but I can get it for yer." replied Winnie. "I'm seein' the gels again tonight."

"Okay, do that would you please Winnie." instructed Harry. "And thanks."

"No probs 'Arry." replied Winnie. "'Ow soon do yer wanna know?"

"As soon as." said Harry.

"I'll call yer tonight then." confirmed Winnie. "Tera for now. Oh 'an give that Yank one for me will ya?"

"Consider it done!" replied Harry, chuckling as she replaced the receiver, then thinking. 'Chance'd be a fine thing at the moment'.

Once back in the drawing room, she got Dempsey's attention and nodded towards the door.

Once alone outside, she told him of her conversation with Winnie.

"'An you think there could be a connection with Arabella's kidnappin'?"

"I don't know, Dempsey." she replied. "But something's telling me to look further into it. Coincidence? A break? Could be, couldn't it?"

"Okay, far be it from me to question that intuition of yours." he replied, smiling. "Let's just see what the trace brings up. If we can't get the actual location, but Mayfair comes up as the area, then you may have somethin' honey"

He moved in closer to her, putting his arms round her waist and whispering. "I missed you last night, princess."

"I know, me too." she replied, quietly. "But Annabel was in such a state I couldn't leave her."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." he said, kissing her lips. "Just missed your body next to mine, that's all."

"That's all?" she questioned, her eyes betraying the pent up passion in her.

Before he could answer, they heard Wilson opening the main front door and broke away from each other, watching as the team, sent to arrange the 'phone trace, entered the hallway.

"In here." ordered Dempsey and showed them into the drawing room, where they set about wiring up various pieces of equipment. Once complete, Sergeant Baker, the team leader, instructed Jonas.

"We're going to need sixty seconds minimum." he said. "So you must try and keep him talking for that long at least. In fact the longer, the better."

"Yes Sergeant, I understand. I'll see what I can do next time." said Jonas, before glancing at his wife. "Annabel darling, I think you'd be better having a lie down."

"Yes alright Jonas." she replied, looking pale and drawn. "Rupert, would you escort me, please?"

"Of course." he replied and took her arm, walking her slowly out into the hallway and up to her bedroom.

At the house in Mayfair, Hani was about to make the call to Jonas, when he gently pushed Rene's gun away from him.

"Rene, a emporter votre arme." he said, smiling up at him. "Comprenez vous, mon ami?"

Rene stepped away from him, but didn't put away his gun as asked, just left it trained at Hani's forehead.

Hani shrugged and dialled Jonas's number.

Jonas answered.

"Cosgrove-Hartley."

"Lord Jonas." said Hani, smoothly. "I trust you can tell me how long it will take to raise the amount?"

"I want to speak to Arabella." replied Jonas, ignoring the question and playing for time as well as a genuine need to speak to his daughter.

"She's asleep." said Hani.

"I don't believe you!" snarled Jonas. "She was asleep last time and I let it go, but not this time. You get her on this 'phone now!"

_Sixteen seconds had elapsed._

"I can assure you she is fine." soothed Hani. "It's not in our interests to have her any other way. This I have explained already."

"I don't care what you've explained before." shouted Jonas. "Unless you put her on this 'phone, no-one is getting paid!"

_Twenty-eight seconds now._

"Okay, have it your own way." replied Hani. "I will call you back when we have woken her."

The dialling tone buzzed in Jonas's ear.

_Only thirty-two seconds had passed._

"I'm sorry." said Jonas. "It didn't work. I thought they might have her there to talk to me but clearly not."

"Did you get anythin'?" Dempsey asked Sergeant Baker.

"No sir." he replied. "Simply not long enough."

With that the telephone rang again.

"Daddy?" came Arabella's tired voice.

"Arabella darling." said Jonas, emotion clearly apparent. "Are you being looked after?"

"Yes." she said, sounding completely out of it. "Are you here?"

"No darling, not yet, but soon." replied Jonas. "How are you feeling?"

"Very tired."

"That's enough." said Hani as he took the 'phone away from her. "Now, are you satisfied?"

"What are you doing to her!?" demanded Jonas. "She sounds unwell."

"We are simply sedating her." replied Hani. "It's for her own good. Otherwise she might become troublesome."

_Twenty-one seconds._

"What are you giving her?" asked Jonas.

"Just a fairly strong dose of your common or garden sleeping draughts, that's all." said Hani. "Now, enough of this! How long before you can get our money?"

"A week." replied Jonas.

"A week? That's too long." said Hani. "Stop playing games, Lord Jonas! You get us the money by Tuesday or your daughter will disappear!"

_Thirty-seven seconds now._

"I cannot raise five million pounds by Tuesday!" said Jonas. "It's impossible. Do you think I have it all to hand? It will take five working days and tomorrow it's the weekend. And if my daughter disappears you definitely won't see a penny!"

"And you'll be spread all over the newspapers!" retorted Hani. "You'll have lost your daughter, your reputation, your business and probably your wife too!"

"No-one will believe it!" replied Jonas.

"Trust me, they will! You have ten more minutes!"

The line went silent, just the dialling tone buzzing in his ear.

_Fifty-eight seconds had gone by._

"Anythin' this time?" asked Dempsey.

"We've got a radius including Knightsbridge, Belgravia and Mayfair." replied Baker.

Dempsey glanced over to Harry, who nodded towards the door again.

Back in the hallway she said.

"Looks as though Winnie might have a lead for us then."

"When's she callin' you?"

"Later, she said." replied Harry. "We'll just have to wait for her to contact me."

Hearing the telephone ring again they went back into the drawing room.

"I'm telling you!" said Jonas. "I cannot get the money raised until Friday. Five working days from Monday."

"Thursday. Lord Jonas." replied Hani. "You still have the rest of today. I'm sure with your influence you will have our money by Thursday."

"And if I don't!?"

"Oh, you will, you most definitely will." said Hani. "I will call you at six in the evening."

"And how am I to deliver this money?" asked Jonas, trying to stall for time. "Five million pounds is an awful lot to be carrying around in a suitcase!"

"Those details will come later." replied Hani. "Just _get _the money! Goodbye!"

This call had only lasted twenty-seven seconds.

"Damn it!" swore Jonas. "Do you think he suspected we were trying to locate him?"

"I doubt it." replied Dempsey. "Guy like that? He'd take great pleasure in remindin' you just what a smartass he is. If he thought you were tracin' him he'd say so."

"Yes, good point James." replied Jonas.

"Look sir, there ain't much we can do right now, so Harry an' I are gonna split." said Dempsey. "We'll catch up with you later on, if that's okay."

Harry went up to Jonas and took his hand.

"Please don't worry too much, Jonas." she said, trying to offer reassurance. "I'm sure no harm will come to Arabella. You need to look after to Annabel. She's not taking this at all well."

"Yes, thank you Harriet." said Jonas. "Rupert's going to stay and I'll go up to Annabel now."

"We'll check in with you later." said Harry as she and Dempsey left the room.

When they got back to SI-10 a message was waiting for Harry from Winnie.

"Winnie?" she said. "You left me a message."

"Yeah 'Arry." replied Winnie. "I saw me mates again at lunchtime. Got the address of that gaff in Mayfair for yer."

"Oh brilliant Winnie." said Harry. "Okay fire away."

"14, Bruton Place, Mayfair."

"Thanks Winnie," said Harry, having scribbled the address down. "I owe you one."

"Make 'im tall, dark and 'ansome then." chuckled Winnie. "See ya girl."

"Ok Harry, let's check that address out." said Dempsey.

Thirty minutes later they were parked about fifty yards down the road from the Mayfair house.

And ten minutes later they were inside.


	8. Chapter 8

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**8.**

They had broken in through a basement window and were, consequently, one floor below ground level.

Shining their torches ahead of them they found they were standing in a narrow corridor.

In front of them was a flight of stone steps and to their right a closed door.

Opening it, they found themselves in the underground garage, Dempsey finding the light switch and flooding the area with neon.

Parked next to each other were two cars. One was a dark grey Mercedes saloon, the other a dark blue Bentley.

"At least we know we're in the right place." whispered Harry.

"Yeah. 'An these babies ain't goin' anywhere!" agreed Dempsey as he took a knife from his pocket and ran over to the cars, slashing each one of their tyres, the sound of hissing air filling the silence.

Back in the corridor they moved stealthily towards the flight of stone steps and, with weapons drawn, locked and loaded, they made their way up to a closed door at the top.

Turning the knob slowly, Dempsey opened it just enough to be able to see what was beyond.

It was a vast kitchen, fully illuminated and, having listened for a few seconds and been met with silence, he gestured for Harry to follow him.

Half way across, they suddenly heard approaching voices and swiftly ran back to the top of the stone steps, pulling the door closed behind them and switching off their torches.

"It's time we gave the girl another sleeping pill." said a voice. "Otherwise she'll start her racket again."

"Yeah okay." said another. "Let me sort the drinks out then we'll sort her out, eh?"

Dempsey and Harry waited quietly whilst the two men rattled around, eventually hearing the pop of corks and the unmistakeable sound of wine glugging into glasses.

Through a crack where the door met its frame, Dempsey glimpsed the two men leaving, carrying a tray each of drinks.

Gesturing for Harry to follow him, he ran quickly to the kitchen door and, having checked all was clear, made for the galleried landing, sprinting the stairs two at a time, Harry right behind him.

When they reached the landing they began opening every door, swinging their torches around inside but finding each room empty until they reached the last one.

It was locked.

"Hello?" came Arabella's familiar voice from within, sounding tired and frightened. "Who's there?"

Suddenly they heard voices again and realised the two men were on their way up. Diving into an empty bedroom, they waited until the bodyguards had reached and unlocked Arabella's door.

Dempsey moved swiftly behind them, clubbing one over the back of his neck with his Magnum and, as the other turned round in surprise, punched him squarely on his nose.

As he tried to scramble to his feet, at the same time pulling a gun from his waistband, Harry pistol whipped him, knocking him unconscious.

They ran into the bedroom and found a startled Arabella, hands tied behind her back, sitting up on the bed.

"Come on!" hissed Dempsey, urgently, grabbing Arabella's arm and hauling her to her feet. She was groggy and unsteady, so he picked her up in his arms and rushed out of the door, Harry behind him, her gun ready to fire if someone else suddenly appeared.

They quickly descended the stairs, ran through the kitchen, down the stone steps and up to the broken window they'd used to get in, Harry scrambling through first, Dempsey aiming his torch to help her.

Putting his hand up, he rested for a moment, breathing hard, a lot of strength knocked out of him having carried Arabella a fair distance.

"You okay, James?" asked Harry, concerned and shining her torch at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Give me a second." he panted, his heart rate slowing now, his breath and strength returning to normal.

He found the light switch and pointed to the window.

"Okay. Can you make it through there?" he whispered to Arabella as he cut her ties with his knife. "Harry'll help you."

"Y..Yes I think so." she said, reaching out for Harry's outstretched hand and using it to steady herself as she climbed through.

Dempsey was soon behind her and, with Harry helping a stumbling Arabella, they sprinted for his car, Harry sliding in first and pulling Arabella onto her lap.

Dempsey fired up the car and roared away, radioing in to SI-10 to get a team to the Mayfair address immediately and before the occupants could leave.

When they reached Hartley Hall, Jonas was upstairs with Lady Annabel, trying to comfort her with all manner of assurances, none of which he truly believed and none of which she truly believed either.

Consequently she was bordering on hysteria.

Rupert was the first to see Arabella walk in to the drawing room, aided by Dempsey and Harry.

He stared in disbelief before rushing to her and enveloping her in arms, tears pouring down his face. She clung to him, her legs still feeling like jelly as he manoeuvred her into an armchair.

Wilson appeared in the doorway, relief clear on his face too.

"Where's his lordship?" asked Harry.

"With her ladyship, me lady." he replied. "I will fetch them here."

At the house in Mayfair, Hani was sipping a glass of red wine, when his two bodyguards appeared in the doorway looking decidedly battered and bruised.

The truth didn't strike him straight away.

"Have you two been fighting each other?" he said, smirking at them, not believing for one second that his 'safe house' had not only been discovered, but breached and his valuable hostage released.

When they remained silent, his smile remained, but his eyes were cold, hard and murderous.

"Where's the girl?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"She...they..." stammered one.

It was the last utterance he ever made.

A hole appeared in the centre of his forehead and as the other turned to run another hole appeared in the back of his head.

The first shot had been fired by Hani, the second by Rene, who gestured to his three colleagues to deal with the dead bodies.

"We must leave immediately!" said Hani. "The authorities could be here any second!"

Minutes later, Rene's three cohorts reported that the cars had been put out of action, so they'd dumped the bodies on the back seats and left them.

Hani made a couple of calls, tracking down his cartel partners, George Smith agreeing to pick them up in his Jaguar, Tony Hill his BMW 7 Series.

At Hartley Hall, Arabella was beginning to feel human again.

Jonas had called the family doctor over, who had reported that she was quite alright, if not still feeling the effects of the constant supply of sleeping tablets that had been regularly fed to her for the last week or so.

It would take another twenty-four hours before her system was completely flushed through, so she should just give in to sleep and let her body recover.

Dempsey and Harry had quickly departed, Dempsey explaining that he needed to get back to Mayfair and help his colleagues round up the gang, Harry, for effect, insisting she went with him.

No-one questioned her intentions, busy and elated as they were at Arabella's safe return.

When they arrived, several SI-10 cars were skewed across the road, the whole area cordoned off. Two ambulances were also parked outside the main door.

All the lights in the house were burning, every window lit up as they made their way through the open front door, a feeling of foreboding beginning to creep in when they saw the look on Spikings's face.

"We've missed them!" he said, angrily. "Must have been by only minutes."

"Jeez!" said Dempsey. "How in the hell did they manage that!? I put their wheels outta commission!"

"We can only hope forensics can come up with finger prints and some DNA." said Spikings. "The place is being thoroughly gone over."

"Why are there two ambulances?" asked Harry. "We didn't do _that _much damage to a couple of them."

"We found two dead bodies on the back seats of the cars in the garage. One shot through the forehead, the other through the back of his skull. We'll soon know who they were when their prints are checked." said Spikings. "Not your work then."

"No Chief." replied Dempsey. "We just knocked 'em out."

"Seems we're definitely dealing with some ruthless killers here." said Spikings. "Heaven only knows whether Lady Arabella would have come out of this alive."

"Yes, it flies in the face of the so called harmless kidnapping." remarked Harry, recalling how Jonas had been convinced Arabella was simply a pawn in a bigger game, but ultimately safe.

"Do we know who owns this house?" she asked.

"Not yet, Sergeant." replied Spikings. "But we'll know by the morning. Anyway, well done you two, although calling for back up _before_ you raided the place may have been a better option."

"Yeah I guess you could say that in hindsight, Chief." replied Dempsey. "But the place looks like a fortress 'an we could've gotten into a shoot out. With Arabella inside, we didn't wanna risk it. Never in a million years would I'd 've thought they'd scram so darned quick!"

"Yes, okay, I'll grant you did the right thing in the heat of the moment." said Spikings. "I hope the CCTV may be able to identify whoever it was that picked them up!"

"If it's okay with you, Chief." said Dempsey. "Harry'n I'll get off home. I know she's pretty bushed. She was up most of the night with Lady Annabel."

"Yes fine, you two get off." agreed Spikings. "There's nothing more we can do until forensics report tomorrow and Chas can trawl through the CCTV coverage."

When the arrived home, they immediately stripped off and showered, Harry in their en-suite bathroom, Dempsey using one in a guest room, the warm water reviving and refreshing them both.

He was first to emerge, wearing a silk dressing gown and lit a fire, then mixed them some drinks, before flopping down onto their big, soft sofa, the crackling and warmth of the fire making him feel drowsy.

Harry came through, a towel wrapped around her head, another covering her from the chest to a few inches above her knees.

She sat down next to him, studying his handsome face, then kissed his lips and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Thought you were tired." he said, his eyes still closed, a smile on his face.

"I am." she whispered, kissing him again, her hand slipping inside his dressing gown. "But not _that_ tired!"

After Hani, Rene and his three accomplices had been picked up by Tony Hill and George Smith, they instructed them to find a hotel for the night, where they could re-group and lay new plans.

They explained what had happened to the two drivers, but Hani didn't tell them who Rene was or why he was now involved.

They checked into a suite at the Kensington Close Hotel and ordered food and wine to be sent up to them. Although, outwardly, Hani had remained as cool as cucumber, inside he was boiling with rage and humiliation and spoiling for revenge.

Having eaten and consumed a few glasses of wine, he picked up the telephone and dialled Jonas's number.

"Cosgrove-Hartley." said Jonas.

"Lord Jonas." soothed Hani. "I trust you find your daughter in good health?"

"Apart from being stuffed full of sleeping pills, she's relatively fine."

"Ah, good." gushed Hani. "Now, it was a silly thing to have had her rescued, you know."

"Far from it, you sick bastard!" retorted Jonas. "Now let's call an end to this nonsense once and for all."

"Why? Do you think it's all over Lord Jonas?"

"Of course it's all over!" replied Jonas. "You've lost your most valuable bargaining chip. Or don't you know when you're beaten!"

"Ah but wait until the Sunday papers are published this weekend." said Hani.

"I've already lined up a solid defence against that rubbish!" replied Jonas. "It won't get you anywhere. And it certainly won't get you five million pounds, that's for sure! It's over!"

"What was it your revered statesman Sir Winston Churchill once said?" stated Hani.

"Sir Winston made many famous speeches, man." retorted Jonas. "What are you on about?"

"I think it was forty-five years ago almost to the day." replied Hani. "1942, November during the Lord Mayor's luncheon at the Mansion House."

"For God's sake what _are_ you talking about?" gasped Jonas.

"He said and I quote. '_Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning._' Those words are going to haunt you for the rest of your life, Lord Jonas!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**9.**

Saturday, November 28th.

By midday, Hani Ahmadi's two dead henchmen had been identified as Abdul Wahid, an Iraqi and Khashay Ashay, an Iranian, both on temporary British visas and of no fixed address.

Their's were the only fingerprints on record.

However, both Tony Hill and George Smith had been arrested following CCTV footage of their cars picking up five men from the Mayfair house.

Under interrogation they had admitted to the scam being set up to snare Jonas and had given Hani Ahmadi's name to Spikings, but had no idea who the other four were, except that they were Frenchmen. They'd also dobbed in Jonnie Jordan and Jeremy Dawkins, the other two in on the fraud, who had also been taken into custody.

In addition, they disclosed that they had taken Ahmadi and the other four to the Kensington Close Hotel but by the time Dempsey and Harry, together with the rest of the SI-10 team, had arrived to arrest them, all five men had checked out.

Having established that the suite had been paid for in cash, so no clues via credit cards or cheques could be gleaned, they took the five registration cards, that all hotels demand for completion, away for analysis.

"Who was on duty last night?" Dempsey asked the hotel manager.

"The night porter, sir." he replied. "I believe it was quite late when the gentlemen arrived."

"So why weren't they asked for a credit card number?" asked Dempsey. "That's usual, ain't it? Room charge and service, drinks, food, all that expenditure can be covered in case a guest does a runner?"

"I can't answer that, sir." replied the manager, sheepishly.

"I guess you need to have a serious word with ya night porter, chum." said Dempsey. "He didn't even wanna take their passports for security. Seems to me, he's taken a bung!"

"I'm sorry, but yes you could be right." replied the manager, taking a card from Dempsey and looking it over. "I will investigate the matter further and contact you at this number."

"Yeah, at the double, huh?" said Dempsey, disdain clear on his face.

The house in Mayfair was being privately leased by a wealthy Italian, who, along with his family, was currently on a world cruise, although just how Hani Ahmadi had gained access to it wasn't clear at first.

Later in the day however, following an internal investigation by the landlords, it was discovered that an employee had been paid five thousand pounds by Hani to supply a set of keys to the place.

All the newspapers had been contacted and told that any photographs they may have showing Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley cavorting with two naked women were false and must be destroyed. Should any of them ignore that instruction, they would be comprehensibly sued.

Spikings also slapped a 'D' notice on any subsequent story being considered for publication and had pulled the whole team into SI-10 to discuss the next phase, when his office telephone rang.

"Who's that!?" he snapped.

"Cosgrove-Hartley, Chief Superintendent." replied Jonas, always taken aback by Spikings' abrupt manner when answering his calls. "I'm just ringing to thank you and your team for all you've done."

"Thank you, your lordship." replied Spikings, puffing out his chest in satisfaction. "But it isn't all over yet, sir. There are still five dangerous men at large."

"Yes." he agreed and related Hani's last words to him. "From the sound of that he's still determined to extort five million pounds from me."

"Indeed." agreed Spikings. "I will assign four of my team to shadow both Lady Annabel and Lady Arabella, two for each of them. I apologize in advance if that encroaches on their privacy but it has to be done whilst this Hani Ahmadi and his friends are still out there."

"I'm sure they'll understand, Chief Superintendent." replied Jonas. "Rather that, than re-live the nightmare of the last week or more!"

"Quite so, sir. I believe your daughter is getting married two weeks from now." said Spikings.

"Yes, it's common knowledge, I'm afraid. " replied Jonas. "I'm very worried the wedding may become a target. We're planning a whole weekends celebration."

"You're right to be concerned." agreed Spikings. "We're going to maintain a trace on your telephone, so as and when Ahmadi calls again, which he undoubtedly will, you must try and keep him talking. We nearly got his location last time."

"Understood. Have you identified any of them?" asked Jonas. "I believe you managed to acquire some fingerprints."

"Yes, to a degree." replied Spikings. "The two dead men were an Iranian and an Iraqi, but we have no record of the other prints. I can tell you that Ahmadi's four friends are French."

"French?" queried Jonas. "I thought I was dealing with Middle Easterners."

"We're currently awaiting more information about them from Interpol." said Spikings. "Their car was French registered so we're hoping something may come up to identify them further. I'll be in touch as soon as I know more, sir."

"Thank you Chief Superintendent." said Jonas and rang off.

Spikings resumed his meeting with the SI-10 team, confirming what was discussed with Jonas.

"Dempsey, Makepeace, Willows and Stroud. I've arranged with his lordship we'll provide cover for Lady Annabel and Lady Arabella until we've caught this lot." he announced. "So get yourselves over to Hartley Hall."

"How do I explain my presence, sir?" asked Harry.

"Just that you're a family friend and assisting Dempsey, Sergeant." replied Spikings. "No-one appears to have questioned your involvement so far, so unless it becomes untenable, I suggest you carry on as usual."

"Yeah, don' worry Harry." said Dempsey. "My guess is Arabella will want you with her anyways up."

"Yes I suppose so." agreed Harry, although not totally convinced.

"Now, I doubt it'll be long before we hear from Mr Ahmadi." said Spikings. "The suspicion is, he's going to focus his attention on Lady Arabella's forthcoming nuptuals."

"Do we know how?" asked Dempsey.

"Not yet." replied Spikings. "But I'm sure he'll tell us pretty soon."

The previous night, while Hani had been talking to Jonas from the suite in the hotel, Rene went down to the lobby and into a public telephone booth. He dialled Philipe de Cadenet in Paris and, conversing in French, explained what had transpired.

De Cadenet was savage.

"You bunch of worthless idiots!" he yelled, incandescent with rage. "Unless you get out of there quickly, the pigs will find you!"

"We are checking out first thing tomorrow morning and will find another place to stay." said Rene, calmly.

"Let me know where that is." demanded Philipe. "I will send a car for you. You're all going to come back here. We need to make new plans. Do not let that Syrian imbecile Ahmadi out of your sight!"

Now, having checked out of the Kensington Close Hotel, Hani, Rene and his three colleagues had moved to a small guest house in Hammersmith, Rene calling Philipe with their location.

Half an hour later, a Range Rover was heading out of Paris en route for the cross channel ferry at Calais, disembarking at Dover and making for Hammersmith.

Several hours later, with its five additional passengers, it made the return journey, arriving in Paris and met by a still disgruntled Philipe.

After he had spent the best part of an hour berating them for their incompetence, he calmed down and, sitting at a large circular table, began discussing various plans to extort five million pounds from Jonas.

On Sunday evening Hani put a call through to him. On a nod from Sergeant Baker, Jonas answered.

The trace commenced.

"Lord Jonas. How are you this evening?" he asked. "I trust you are well?"

"What do you want Ahmadi?" replied Jonas.

"So my friends have been talking eh?" he said. "You know my name. How nice for you."

"Cut the crap!" said Jonas, angrily. "_What do you want_?"

"You know full well what I want." replied Hani, smoothly. "Five million pounds."

"Nothing doing chum." replied Jonas.

"Then your stupidity will cost you the life of either your daughter or your wife!"

"What the hell do you mean?" hissed Jonas.

"If I don't have the money in my hand by Thursday of this week, then either your daughter or your wife will die!"

"They are under round the clock surveillance." replied Jonas. "You can't get near them!"

"Watch me!" snarled Hani, before slamming the 'phone down.

The entire call had only lasted thirty-six seconds.

"Sorry your lordship." said Sergeant Baker. "Not enough time to lock on to the location. But we didn't get anything at all, which leads me to believe the call wasn't being made from this country."

"Any clues at all?" asked Dempsey.

"Possibly France, Belgium or Holland." replied Baker. "Can't be any more specific than that."

"We know there are French guys involved." said Dempsey. "Does that help at all?"

"All depends upon how long you can keep him talking." said Baker.

"Did he say when he'd call back?" asked Harry.

"No, but I doubt it'll be long." replied Jonas. "I'll do my best next time."

He went into his office and called SI-10 on his secure line.

Spikings answered.

"Chief Superintendent, it's Cosgrove-Hartley."

"Yes your lordship."

"I've heard from our friend again." reported Jonas. "He's threatening the life of either my wife or Arabella if I don't stump up five million pounds by next Thursday."

"Did we manage a trace?" asked Spikings.

"No, there wasn't enough time." replied Jonas. "But your man here thinks it came from outside the UK. Possibly France, Belgium or Holland."

"I'd guess France then." said Spikings. "The car they used was on French plates, but we still haven't got an ID on the owner. Did Ahmadi give any other details?"

"No he didn't." replied Jonas. "But he'll be calling back soon, no doubt. I'll try and keep him on the line."

Half an hour later Hani rang again and this time he wasn't standing for any nonsense.

"I suspect you are trying to trace this call, Lord Jonas." he said. "So I'll come straight to the point. You've had time to digest our last conversation. I will call you on Wednesday next, by which time I expect you to confirm you have five million pounds in cash. I will then give you details as to how you hand it over. You know the penalty for failure."

He hung up before Jonas had uttered a single word.

"What did he say, Jonas?" asked Harry.

"If I fail to deliver five million pounds on Thursday, he'll kill either Annabel or Arabella."

"It won't come to that." said Dempsey, Harry looking quizzically at him. "We'll figure somethin' out."

"Right now, I'm sure I don't know how." said Jonas.

"Trust me." replied Dempsey, tapping his forehead. "I'm workin' on a plan."

"Do you want us to stay here tonight, Jonas?" asked Harry.

"No not at all." he replied. "I'll see you all tomorrow. And thank you."

On the way home, Harry turned to Dempsey.

"So what's this plan of yours?"

"I gotta run it past Spikings." he replied. "But I'm guessin' we can get our hands on five mill in forged notes?"

"You think?" said Harry, eyebrows raised. "I'd have thought any forged currency would be instantly destroyed, wouldn't you?"

"I dunno, princess." replied Dempsey. "In the States we hold on to counterfeit banknotes. The DEA guys often use it when gettin' close to exposin' drug dealers."

"Perhaps you're right then." said Harry. "I must say I've not heard of it, but it seems the obvious thing to do, I suppose."

"Yeah, there'll be a stash someplace, you can bet on it." said Dempsey, grinning across at her.

The weather had been cold and wet for the last couple of days, with snow showers forecast for the coming week.

"Hurry up Dempsey." said Harry, looking out of her window at the bleak wintry scene flashing by. "I'm looking forward to a cosy night in by the fire, some moody music, a juicy steak with all the trimmings, a glass or two of wine and you."

"Moody music, huh?" he teased. "Like who, honey?"

"Erm...Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Barbara Streisand." she replied, playing along. "Take your pick."

"Yeah, sounds good to me." he said, taking her hand. "Any one of them puts me in the mood."

"Is that a fact?" she replied, glancing across at him, her eyes smiling, the look on her face unmistakeable in its message. "Me too."

Before they left for Hartley Hall the next morning, Dempsey called Spikings at home, Harry listening and waiting for the inevitable fireworks.

"Chief." he said, when Spikings came on the 'phone.

"Do you know what time it is, Dempsey!? he roared, clearly annoyed.

"Er. Yeah it's..."

"_I_ know what the time is!" shouted Spikings. "I want to know if _you_ do!"

"Chief, I know it's kinda early." replied Dempsey, glancing at Harry who'd put her hand to her mouth to stifle her amusement. "But I wanted to check somethin' out with ya before I got to Hartley Hall."

"What?" growled Spikings.

"Can we get the money his lordship needs in forged notes?"

"What!?" snorted Spikings.

"Chief, we must keep counterfeit notes to use in certain cases." said Dempsey. "Come on Chief, ya know what I'm sayin'!"

"We can't discuss this over the telephone, Dempsey." relented Spikings. "You and Makepeace cut along to Hartley Hall and I'll join you there in an hour."

"Okay." said Dempsey and hung up.

"Well?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, there's fake dough about, princess." said Dempsey. "Spikings'll tell us 'bout it at the Hall."

When Spikings arrived he asked Jonas if he could use his office for a private discussion with Dempsey. Harry slipped in unseen.

"Alright Lieutenant." said Spikings. "I've a canny idea what you're about to suggest but go ahead anyway."

"Simply this, Chief." replied Dempsey. "We use counterfeit money for the drop."

"And how does that help?" quizzed Spikings.

"First it takes the heat off of Arabella and Lady Annabel." replied Dempsey, Spikings visibly annoyed at the American habit of following an adverb with a preposition. "Second, it saves his lordship riskin' his own dough, third, if these smartasses don' notice the fakes we may be able to trace 'em if they start spendin' and four, it buys us some more time to track 'em down anyways."

Spikings considered this for a moment.

"I can see how that would work, Dempsey." he said finally. "But we'd be taking quite a risk. It's possible the first thing they will do is check the notes. And there's no telling how they might react to having suitcases full of duds."

"Chief." replied Dempsey. "They'll be pissed off, fo' sure, but they want the dough. All they'll do is get back on the blower an' make more threats. So long as we keep the two ladies close, they'll be okay. If Jonas hands over real money, then we have a very narrow window of opportunity to get 'em. An' if they slip through our nets, it's gonna get real tough to find 'em, 'cos they'll already have an exit strategy all set up."

"What's your view, Sergeant?"

"Dempsey's right, sir." said Harry. "If nothing else, it buys us more time to find them. And it won't matter too much if they burn the notes in anger. They are worthless anyway."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt if we fitted tracking devices to the suitcases, either." mused Spikings. "They may suspect they are bugged, but they're not going to be able to empty the money into, say, bin bags, immediately. That would give us a chance at nabbing them."

"So, you wanna go with it, Chief?" asked Dempsey.

"Sergeant, ask his lordship to join us." instructed Spikings. "I suggest you remain outside while we explain this plan to him."

Jonas was all for it, not only because it saved him having to gather together, and risk, an enormous sum of money, but because he could immediately see how it acted as a stalling device, thus giving SI-10 a greater chance of bringing Ahmadi and his gang to book.

In Paris, Hani had been kept under lock and key, Philipe taking no chances with his slippery charge.

"This had better work, Ahmadi." he said. "For if it doesn't, you will pay your debt to me with your life!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**10.**

Wednesday, December 2nd.

The arrangements for Rupert and Arabella's wedding over the weekend of December 19th and 20th had been ratcheted up considerably since the weekend, Lady Annabel, in particular, determined to make up for the time lost through Arabella's kidnapping.

Jonas had deliberately kept quiet about the dangerous situation involving death threats to them both, reasoning that it would serve little purpose if they knew, therefore putting his trust entirely in SI-10 to twart Hani Ahmadi and his ruthless cohorts sooner rather than later.

Dempsey and Harry, and in several instances, Rupert too, hadn't left Arabella's side when she needed to venture out on various errands and Lady Annabel, similarly, always had Josh Willows and Terry Stroud shadowing her every move, Jonas explaining that their presence was merely a necessary precaution.

Spikings had secured five million in forged fifty pound notes, which, to the naked eye, looked every inch like the real thing, the forger having been considered the best in the world before he was caught, convicted and locked up.

In Spikings's office, the money was now sitting in twelve standard size suitcases, four hundred thousand pounds in each, the maximum each case could take, together with a smaller one holding the remaining two hundred thousand pounds.

Dempsey and Harry, having left Hartley Hall the previous evening for home, had called in to look over the notes, mostly out of curiousity.

"May I?" he asked, Spikings nodding at him.

Grabbing the smaller case, he opened it and extracted a note.

He drew a fifty out of his wallet and compared it to the forgery.

"I can't tell the difference." he said, laying them down on the desk side by side, having held them up to the light to check the watermark and silver strip of foil. "So where's the catch?"

"Normally you'd see the difference by rubbing the forged note on a clean sheet of white paper." said Spikings. "If it doesn't smudge then it's fake. The ink used by the Royal Mint never dries completely, so if it did smudge it'd be real. But the forger in this case, managed to get his hands on the same ink, so when that particular test was applied, all the notes came up as real. It even passes the marker pen test."

"Clever cookie huh?" replied Dempsey, unable to hide a certain amount of grudging respect for the counterfeiter. "So how are these different then?"

"Weight." replied Spikings. "The fakes weigh more, simply because the paper the Mint use is unique. And it's so well guarded, there's never been a case where the paper has been stolen."

Dempsey picked both notes up and weighed them against each other.

"There ain't much in it." he said. "If ya hadn't told me Chief, I'd not know which is which."

"So there's a more than even chance these won't be discovered as false." said Harry, like Dempsey, admiring the handiwork.

They were remarkable copies.

"Indeed." replied Spikings. "My guess is that these villains aren't particularly up to speed with forged currency, seeing as they probably deal in the usual money making businesses, vice, gambling, drugs for instance."

"Yeah, well I go along with that up to a point, boss." said Dempsey. "At the end of the day, they still deal in money, so I guess they have to be sure it's the real thing."

"There's risk in everything, Dempsey." replied Spikings. "At least, as Harry says, there's more than an even chance these won't be spotted."

"I hear we've got Special Branch involved now." said Dempsey.

"Yes, to cover the airports and cross channel ferries." replied Spikings. "If Ahmadi is now in France then he and his gorillas should be planning on being here to collect the money. Special Branch have their descriptions so we may even nab them the minute they set foot on UK soil."

"That's supposing they don't use another team based here." said Harry. "And do we know how the money is being transferred."

"Not yet, Sergeant." replied Spikings. "But we will tomorrow when our Mister Ahmadi calls again."

Those instructions came through at noon, just Spikings and Jonas in his office, the others scattered through the Hall talking to Arabella and Annabel, deliberately keeping them occupied and diverting their attention to what was going down..

As had become the norm, Jonas didn't answer the telephone until Sergeant Baker had activated the trace, then nodded.

"Cosgove-Hartley." he said.

"Lord Jonas." said Hani, his tone friendly. "You have our money?"

"Yes."

"Ah good." gushed Hani. "How is it packed?"

"In twelve standard size suitcases, four hundred thousand pounds in each one plus a half size one with the final balance." replied Jonas.

"Fine. Do you know the NCP carpark on the Finchley Road, next to the multiplex cinema?"

"No." replied Jonas, attempting to string the conversation out. "Give me the instructions as to how to get there."

"Get a map!" retorted Hani harshly, then in calmer tones. "Now, tomorrow at noon, go to the very top. Come alone. You will be out in the open air. You will see a bright red Ford Escort van. It will be unlocked. Transfer the money to the van and leave. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Excellent." said Hani. "Nice doing business with you Lord Jonas. Oh and I don't have to remind you that if anyone tries to apprehend us, the penalty will be death to either your pretty daughter or your beautiful wife. Good day to you."

Forty-one seconds had passed, Baker shaking his head again.

"He's wise to us now." he said. "Sorry your lordship. But I think that call came from abroad, like the last one."

"Doesn't help much though does it." sighed Jonas, then turning to Spikings. "Are you familiar with this car park, Chief Superintendent?"

"Yes I know it." replied Spikings. "It's surrounded by high rise flats and office blocks. I'm afraid the possibility is they'll have a lookout, maybe a sniper, watching that roof for any signs of us. However, each case has a small transmitter hidden in the handle. We should be able to track the van. There's no point in us stopping it, as they'll probably be using a petty criminal as driver for a one-off fee."

"Yes I see." said Jonas. "We obviously want the organ grinders, not the monkeys."

"Er, yes." agreed Spikings, somewhat amused at Jonas's terminology. "I'll have my team stationed in their cars at various points, so we'll alternate shadowing the van. It'll be rendezvousing with another vehicle at some stage but whether that will contain our quarry is uncertain."

Meanwhile, Arabella and Rupert were grilling Harry.

"You seem very involved in all of this Harriet." said Rupert.

"I am Rupert." she replied. "You are friends of mine, James is my fiance, so it seemed natural for me to stay close to you all."

"But what about your work at the Museum?" asked Arabella. "Does the professor know what you're doing?"

"I've taken some time off." lied Harry. "I haven't used my holiday entitlement this year, so he was happy for me to have a month away, especially as we're close to Christmas."

"Oh I see." said Arabella. "Gosh, fancy spending your hols like this, what with me being kidnapped and everything."

"Yes, but it's nice to see what work James does." Harry continued. "At least I can appreciate the danger he faces - and the unsociable hours! Many police marriages break up because of a lack of understanding on the spouses part and the pressure on the husband to balance family with work. I don't intend to let that happen to us."

"Very commendable." said Rupert, sincerely. "You obviously have a strong bond, that's plain for all to see and you deserve every happiness, Harriet. And I like James a lot. There's something about him."

"He's jolly good looking." said Arabella, smiling at Harry. "Very sexy too."

"Oh yes?" said Rupert, looking at Arabella questioningly.

"Yes." replied Arabella, returning Rupert's gaze. "Oh don't be so jealous, darling. You're the one for me, you always have been and always will be."

Harry was relieved the subject had switched to these two star struck lovers, so excused herself.

"I think I'll just go and find him." she said and beat a not too obvious but a, nevertheless, hasty retreat.

She found him in the kitchen, helping himself to coffee.

"Hey tiger." he greeted. "Where've you been? Want some coffee?"

"Getting the third degree." she said, nodding and taking the steaming cup from him. "Arabella and Rupert decided to find out why I was so involved in all of this."

"What did you tell 'em."

"Oh, just that they were friends, I was on holiday and helping you out." she said.

"They believe it?"

"Yes, then Arabella mentioned how sexy you are." she said, sidling up to him so he could put his arm round her waist, then snuggling into him and kissing his lips before adding. "Rupert got jealous."

"Yeah?" questioned Dempsey. "'Bout me?"

"Yes." giggled Harry. "I felt quite proud."

"Proud?" he questioned again.

"Yes proud!" exclaimed Harry. "Goodness, you can be really slow on the uptake, Dempsey! Proud you're all mine, you dope!"

He decided to have a moments fun with her.

"Wow!" he said.

"Wow what?" she replied , looking up into his face, expecting she was the reason for the wow.

"Lady Arabella Cosgrove-Hartley fancies me." said Dempsey, looking all gooey eyed.

"What!?" she exclaimed again, staring at him, then trying to wriggle free. "Well, she's spoken for, so hard bloody luck!"

He turned her round to face him, putting his other arm round her waist so she couldn't move and looked into her angry eyes.

"And he's welcome to her, princess." he said, smiling. "'Cos I got you, an' no-one's gonna take you from me."

Her eyes softened, her lips parted slightly as he bent his head to kiss her and her body melted into his.

No man had ever had such an effect on her, anyone else she would have resisted and pulled away from - in fact, she wouldn't have reacted anything like she'd just done - if it had been anybody else.

It was instances like this that brought out the deep love she felt for him.

She flung her arms round his neck, pressing the centre of their bodies together, feeling his instant arousal, her breathing quickening in pace as her passion increased and wishing to God they were somewhere else.

Hearing voices, they quickly broke away from each other, Dempsey sitting down at the kitchen table with his coffee, Harry unable to stifle a giggle when she spotted the bulge in the front of his trousers as he did so.

Josh and Terry sauntered into the kitchen to refill their coffee cups.

"I dunno what you find so funny." whispered Dempsey. "But you're lookin' real flushed!"

"And you're definitely horny!" she whispered back, gesturing with her eyes to his crotch and putting a hand to her mouth to hide her amusement. "It's a real turn on."

"Shhhush!" said Dempsey. "You're makin' matters worse!"

"Good!" she whispered, from behind her hand. "We've unfinished business!"

"You two okay?" asked Josh, noticing them hunched over the kitchen table whispering to each other.

"Yeah, hi guys." said Dempsey, smiling up at them both. "Her ladyship okay?"

"Yeah, pretty good." replied Josh. "Seems to think things aren't quite right, but then gets busy with something else to do with the big wedding coming up."

"How's the Lady Arabella, Harry?" asked Terry.

"Only has eyes for her fiance." she replied, grinning at Dempsey, unseen by the others since they were behind her chair.

In Paris, Philipe de Cadenet was talking to a contact in London.

"So listen Benny." he said. "Are you clear what you have to do."

"Yeah Philipe." replied Benny. "Two of my guys will pick up the van, one driving, the other gettin' the dosh into bin bags, then we'll transfer to my car an' make for the coast. What time's the boat gonna be there?"

"Six." said Philipe.

"An' my cut's four 'undred grand."

"Oui monsieur." said Philipe. "The money's packed in suitcases, each one with four hundred thousand in. So just keep one back for yourself."

"Cool." replied Benny. "'Appy days mate. I won't let ya down."

Philipe cut the call and stared at Hani.

"Your debt should be cleared by tomorrow. You'd better pray it all goes to plan, mon ami."


	11. Chapter 11

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**11.**

Thursday, December 3rd.

Rupert was under strict instructions not to let either Arabella or Annabel out of his sight and to ensure they stayed in the house, Jonas having explained to him what was going on, as the need for all the SI-10 detectives to be involved meant no-one could be watching over the two women that day.

It was snowing hard when he drove his Rolls Royce Corniche Convertible onto the top floor of the NCP car park at twelve noon.

Thick flakes of snow were being constantly swept aside by the windscreen wipers as Jonas searched the open space for the red Ford Escort van.

Spotting it tucked away in a corner, conveniently shielded from the view of most of the surrounding high rise flats and offices by a small building housing the car parks electricity generators, he pulled up beside it.

Given that the weather was so inclement, it had ensured the area was completely empty of other vehicles, thus no-one witnessed him transferring thirteen suitcases into the unlocked van.

However, from a suite of empty offices that did have a view, a pair of binoculars had been trained on the whole operation and followed the Rolls as it disappeared into the car park building and wound its way down to the exit.

Nothing happened for half an hour, until a grey Volvo estate car emerged onto the car park and drew up alongside the van, two men getting out, one clambering into the back of it and bringing a suitcase out.

He threw it into the Volvo then climbed back into the rear of the Escort, the other man closing the doors after him before jumping into the drivers seat.

Both vehicles then made their way out to the main Finchley road, where they drove off in opposite directions to each other.

From one of the vacant offices, Benny lowered his binoculars and smiled.

SI-10 operative Jon, followed the Volvo from a discreet distance, Dave, his colleague, mirroring him with the Ford Escort.

In the SI-10 office, Chas was following the progress of both the van and the Volvo, via a map on his computer screen, each vehicle highlighted by a single white dot as the tracking devices hidden in the suitcase handles beamed their progress back to him.

Spikings was sitting alongside and directing operations, when they noticed the Volvo had stopped.

"Base to Charlie 6, come in. Over"

"Charlie 6 receiving you. Over." replied Jon from his stationary position outside a block of high rise flats in Stepney.

"What can you see, Jon?" asked Spikings.

"Vehicle is parked up. Driver has disembarked with the suitcase and disappeared inside a block of flats. Over."

"Okay. Stay put. Let us know if vehicle is on the move again. Over."

"Wilco. Over and out."

Dempsey and Harry, in their individual cars, were each assigned to follow the van, Harry taking over from Dave when his stint finished.

Each operative was in contact with base, and each other, via their in car radio's, Harry using hers when she witnessed the van disappearing behind a pair of large garage doors fronting a dilapidated building near the East End docks.

"Charlie 5 to Base, come in. Over." called Harry.

"Base receiving you Charlie 5." replied Spikings. "What is it Sergeant?"

"Escort van has entered building. Chances are the money is being switched to different carriers."

The white dot on the computer screen, symbolising the van, was still stationary.

"Watch and wait, Charlie 5. Over." instructed Spikings.

"Copy. Over and out." replied Harry.

Fifteen minutes later, a white Ford Granada estate car emerged from the garage doors.

"Charlie 5 to base. Over."

"Base receiving you Charlie 5. Over"

"White Ford Granada estate, registration number C256 HYT, exiting garage. Over."

"Base to Charlie 5. Hand over to Charlie 4." instructed Spikings. "Stay and report any movement of van. Over."

"Copy. Over and out." replied Harry, sighing and sitting back in her seat, preparing for a long wait.

"Has that reg number checked out Chas?" asked Spikings.

"Nope. False just like all the others." replied Chas.

Dempsey had heard the communication between Harry and base and had picked up the Granada estate.

"Charlie 4 to base. Over"

"Base receiving you, Charlie 4. Over."

"Chief, I've got the Granada. It's dropped off one occupant and is now heading out of town on the Brighton road. Will stay with it. Over"

"Copy that, Charlie 4. Over and out."

Meanwhile, Harry was getting bored and cold.

It was still snowing and she was fed up with having to sweep the flakes off the windscreen, then start the engine so it could deliver warmth via the heater, before switching it off again when it got too hot.

Thus the windscreen would soon grow opaque with the snow again, so she'd have to start the wipers once more, running the engine so as not to drain the cars battery.

She kept wondering what had gone on inside the building after the van had disappeared into it.

Looking around her, the area was deserted, so she decided to do a little snooping. Having left her car, she ran swiftly up to the garage doors, noticing they weren't quite shut.

Removing her leather gloves, she worked the fingers of both hands into their leading edge and managed to prize them open just enough to squeeze inside.

The vast area was empty, except for the van, its rear doors wide open and all the suitcases scattered over the floor where they'd been disgarded.

As she approached the vehicle there was a sudden blinding flash followed by a deafening explosion as the van blew itself apart, the force of the blast throwing Harry off her feet, sending her flying backwards through the air and up against the garage doors, her head connecting with them and knocking her out cold.

Molten fragments of the van, burning brightly, flew off in all directions, fires starting where they landed, disgarded rags, paper and wood all bursting into flames until the area was ablaze in several different places, thick smoke from the hard plastic of the smouldering, melting suitcases beginning to spread across the floor like an incoming tide before billowing up into the rafters.

In the meantime, Dempsey had tailed the Granada onto the A26 before it veered off on a country road towards the coastal town of Saltdean, a few miles away from Brighton.

Without the heavy traffic to hide him, he held back a fair way, and hoped the target vehicle didn't dive off into some deserted lane.

He radioed his position and progress to Spikings and was told to maintain station, but under no circumstances get too close and blow his presence.

"As if!" he muttered under his breath, having signed off.

Due to the snow leaden skies, darkness had come early, the temperature dropping too and the wet road becoming slippery as the sheen of surface water began to freeze, the task of following the Granada not helped by a fresh shower of snow falling thickly onto his windscreen.

Back at SI-10, Chas noticed that the dot identifying the Escort van had disappeared and pointed it out to Spikings.

"Base to Charlie 5, come in. Over."

No reply.

"Base to Charlie 5, are you receiving me? Over."

Still silence.

"Get Dave over there." ordered Spikings. "Something's up!"

"Base to Charlie 7, come in. Over"

"Charlie 7 receiving you. Over."

"Dave. Charlie 5 isn't answering." said Chas, reading out the address. " Get over there immediately and check it out. Over."

"Wilco." replied Dave, jotting the address down. "That's Harry isn't it? Over."

"Affirmative, Charlie 7. Over and out."

"On my way. Over and out."

Dempsey had heard the exchange.

"Charlie 4 to Base. Come in. Over."

"Base to Charlie 4, receiving you. Over."

"What's happened to Harry!?" he demanded.

"Nothing as yet, Lieutenant." Spikings replied. "Focus on what you're doing Dempsey. We'll look after Harry, don't worry."

"Goddam it!" he swore, after having signed off and, with great effort, pushed his concern for Harry to one side, concentrating hard on controlling the powerful Mercedes as it's rear tyres scrabbled for grip on the icy road surface.

When Dave arrived to look for Harry the first thing he saw was her empty car, the second was smoke escaping from gaps in the garage doors. Sliding to a halt, he leapt out of his car and sprinted up to the doors, pulling them open to find her slumped on the ground, still unconscious.

Choking from the thick smoke, he picked her up and carried her outside to his car, placing her carefully on the front passenger seat, then radioing for the ambulance and fire services, before contacting Spikings and giving him the news.

Meantime, Dempsey, through the blinding snow now turning into a blizzard, had come up on a stationary Granada, which, unseen by him, had parked in a layby.

They were on the outskirts of Saltdean so he cruised by and pulled into a pub car park about fifty yards away.

He radioed in to Spikings.

"Charlie 4 to Base, come in. Over."

"Base to Charlie 4, receiving you. Over."

"Chief, I'm parked up in a pub car park in a place called Saltdean."

"Yes I know it." replied Spikings.

"My guess is they're waitin' for a boat." said Dempsey. "I don' see any other reason why they'd be here."

"Neither do I, Dempsey." replied Spikings.

"Any news on Harry?"

"Yes. She's been taken to A&E." replied Spikings. "At present all we know is she's been knocked unconscious and inhaled a lot of smoke, but other than that she's not been injured. It looks as though the Escort van was rigged with explosive, designed to destroy it and any clues as to who's used it. Harry must have gone to investigate and got caught in the blast. She'll be fine Dempsey."

"Okay." he said, relieved. "Over and out."

He sat there for a moment, thinking of her, then began to re-focus on the job in hand.

Having come to a decision he grabbed the radio and contacted Spikings, explaining his plan, which was grudgingly accepted, seeing as there was no alternative.

Then he reached for his mackintosh, stepped out of the car, threw it on and walked towards the Granada.

On reaching it, he tapped on the drivers window and as it wound down, he drew his Magnum from beneath his coat and pressed the barrel's end up against the drivers forehead.

"The slightest move, dumbass, and this thing goes off." he said. "Understand?"

The driver nodded, not moving another muscle.

Dempsey pulled his badge out of his back pocket and held it up.

"What's goin' down, bozo?"

The driver remained silent.

Dempsey cocked the hammer, his eyes hard and blazing.

"I ain't playin' games here pal."

"S..Six, six o'clock." stammered the driver. "B..B .. Boat."

Dempsey glanced quickly at his watch.

It was five o'clock.

He backed away from the car, his gun still trained on the driver.

"Out!" he said. "Now! And don't be a hero."

The driver did as he was told, visibly shaking.

"What's ya name?"

"M. Max." he replied.

"Okay Max." said Dempsey. "Now, we're gonna walk, like two buddies, over to the pub and go inside, okay?"

Max nodded and walked alongside him as they strolled into the pub, the gun pressed into his ribs and hidden by Dempsey's coat.

The place was empty, Dempsey ringing a brass bell that sat on the bar, a middle aged man appearing a few minutes later.

"You the landlord?" he asked, showing his badge once more.

"Yes." replied the landlord.

"I want you to call the local police an' get em' over here, double quick. You got that?"

"Yes." he said again and disappeared into the back of the pub, returning five minutes later. "They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Okay, thanks." replied Dempsey. "Now, Max, we're gonna sit down an' wait for 'em. 'An while we wait, you're gonna tell me exactly what your instructions are."

Ten minutes later, two local constables wandered into the pub.

"Over here." called Dempsey and prompltly explained exactly who he was and why he was there.

Then he handed Max over, instructing that they lock him up for handling stolen goods and not to allow him near a telephone.

After he had been marched out by the two policemen, Dempsey returned to the Granada, started it up and drove to the meeting point as identified by Max.

All he could do then, was wait.


	12. Chapter 12

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**12.**

When Harry regained consciousness, she had a blinding headache, felt nauseous and confused and found it difficult to speak.

"Where am I?" she croaked, even that small effort causing her to gasp for breath.

The nurse at her bedside immediately placed an oxygen mask over her mouth and she drew the air in to her damaged lungs, her eyes closing sleepily.

"You're in hospital, dear." said the nurse. "You've inhaled a lot of smoke and you'll need a few days with us so we can heal your lungs and get your airways back to normal."

The voice sounded far away, Harry only semi-conscious of their meaning as she drifted into sleep once more.

Half a mile down the coast from Saltdean, Dempsey was sitting in the driving seat of the Ford Granada, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and checking his watch every ten seconds.

He was looking out over a small sandy beach fronting a tiny harbour, lit by a few dull street lamps, and waiting for the forty foot motor yacht Max had assured him would be arriving at six o'clock.

It had stopped snowing , the wind dropping too and the sea looked calm and flat.

It was now six fifteen and he wondered whether the rendezvous had been scuppered through bad weather in the Channel.

For the umpteenth time, he checked his watch again.

All of a sudden, a white Silverton 40 Aft Cabin cruiser hove into sight and flashed a powerful spotlight straight at Dempsey's car, he flicking his headlights on and off in response.

The boat came to a halt as it cleared the harbour entrance and dropped its anchor, at the same time a sizeable rubber dinghy was lowered from the stern into the water, the one occupant firing up it's outboard motor and, with the bow rising up from the acceleration, sped over to where Dempsey was parked, running directly onto the sandy beach.

Pulling the collar of his mac up round his ears, Dempsey got out of the car and walked to the rear, lifting the tailgate, half a dozen black bin bags, stuffed full of cash, staring back at him.

Just then the dinghy's occupant appeared by his side.

"Etes-vous Max?" he asked.

"Yeah." replied Dempsey.

"Moi, Gaston." he replied, then pointing to the yacht. "Jacques. Oui?"

"You speak any English?" asked Dempsey, nodding that he understood and faking his best English accent.

"A littel." replied Gaston.

"Listen Gaston." said Dempsey. "I want to come back with you."

"Porquoi? Why?" asked Gaston.

"Police!" said Dempsey. "After me! I ride with you to Paris, then I disappear, ok?"

Gaston looked him straight in the eye, weighing him up, Dempsey trying to look like someone on the run and scared.

It worked.

"Ok." said Gaston. "Vite!"

They grabbed the bin bags and hauled them over to the dinghy, realising that they'd have to make a second trip as four bags left just enough room for one person to operate the little boat.

Dempsey pushed him off and watched as he sped back to the motor yacht, Jacques helping him unload, before Gaston spun the dinghy round and roared back to the beach.

Once the final two bags had been lifted into it, Dempsey climbed in and sat down in the bow, throwing the dingy's painter to Jacques as they reached the yacht, who grabbed it and pulled the little boat up to the cruisers stern.

As Dempsey made to step from one boat to the other, Jacques pushed him back roughly and began speaking in harsh tones to Gaston. After a few minutes heated argument, Gaston won the day and Jacques gestured for Dempsey to climb aboard, although his look of suspicion remained.

With the bags safely stored in the cabin and the dinghy back in its resting place on the stern's ledge, Gaston hauled up the anchor, while Jacques fired up the twin Mercruiser engines and manoeuvred the yacht out into the Channel, before opening them up, the big boat skimming across the water's surface and heading for the French coast.

Dempsey was on his own now and was going to have to draw on all his wits and training to stay out of trouble.

At SI-10, Spikings had told Jon, who had been sitting patiently outside the block of flats in Stepney after the Volvo had parked, to wait for Dave to join him, then when the driver appeared to arrest him immediately.

After Dave had ensured Harry was being looked after at the hospital, he drove over to Jon and waited with him.

He'd parked his car directly behind the Volvo, almost nudging its bumper, so when two men appeared and got into the car, Jon quickly sped to block its progress, screeching to a halt across it's front.

Dave leapt out and with his revolver pointing directly at the drivers head, Jon doing the same with the passenger, the arrests were made with little fuss.

Benny was one of the prisoners and sang like a canary when interrogated, exposing Philipe de Cadenet as being behind the whole operation and running it from his home in Paris, although he didn't know the address.

Spikings was immediately on to the Prefecture of Police of Paris, who, as an agency of the French Government, provided the police force for the city.

He explained that he required clearance to bring his team to Paris and informed them that he already had an operative working undercover, but that he could be exposed at any time.

He got the clearance after detailing the case history and was also given de Cadenet's last known address.

"Why is this criminal still at large and not locked up!?" he asked them.

"We have never been able to pin anything on him directly." came the reply. "And no member of his gang have ever dared speak out against him."

After he'd completed the call he turned to his team who'd all gathered in the main office.

"We're assuming the money will end up with this de Cadenet at his home." said Spikings. "Dempsey is right in amongst it now, so if they're heading for a different location, he'll get a message to us - I hope!"

"How long will it take us to drive to Paris?" asked Chas.

"About five and a half hours, including the ferry crossing." replied Spikings. "But we can't move until Dempsey's been in touch. Once he's established where the money has ended up, then we can go. Unless we catch them red handed with the stolen loot, de Cadenet could wriggle out of the whole thing."

"And we've still got to hope they don't spot it's all counterfeit!" remarked Chas.

"Wouldn't it be quicker to fly there?" asked Josh. "I mean, couldn't we charter a private jet? We'd be there in no time."

"We could, yes." said Spikings. "Trouble is the weather. There's some heavy snow due and that could ground us. Also fog is a problem. We can't risk that happening. The only thing hampering crossing the Channel are seas so stormy the boats won't run, but none of that is forecast."

"When do we expect to hear from Dempsey?" asked Jon.

"It's nine pm now." replied Spikings, glancing at his wristwatch. "He should be on his way to Paris. Either way it won't matter what time he calls us tonight. We can't catch a ferry until six tomorrow morning. You lot get off and be back here at 3am."

The trip across the water had been conducted in virtual silence, much to Dempsey's relief. Having reached the Normandy coast of France and the little port town of Etretat, they'd transerred the bin bags to a Range Rover and were now driving through Rouen heading for Paris.

When the reached the capital, they drove into the centre and dropped Dempsey off near the Arc de Triomphe.

He couldn't believe his luck.

As soon as he had alighted, he hailed one of the numerous cabs and instructed the driver to follow the Range Rover. It wasn't a long journey as the Avenue Montaigne in the 8th Arrondissement was nearby and Dempsey watched as the vehicle disappeared through the garage doors fronting an elegant and expensive looking house.

He tapped the cabbie on the shoulder.

"Hotel?" he said.

"Oui monsieur." said the driver and immediately swung the car into a u turn, then headed off through the twisting streets until he drew up outside a small hotel, boasting a sign that conveyed a bed and cutlery.

"Ma mere." said the cabbie, grinning at him and pointing to the the entrance. "Madame Beaudin, oui?"

"Merci." said Dempsey and wondered how the hell he was going to pay him, seeing as he hadn't any francs. "Er, no money."

"Ah, er, you pay my muzzer, er, demain matin, oui?" said the driver, scratching his head for the English translation. "Er tomorrow?"

"Okay okay, great, merci, merci." said Dempsey, feeling like an idiot but thankful his luck was holding out.

The cabbie followed him into the hotel and found his mother behind the reception counter, explaining the situation to her. She nodded throughout and smiled at Dempsey, speaking to him in broken English.

"You 'ave no cases?" she asked. "But you pay me and my son tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, of course." replied Dempsey, then stepping back suddenly as she drew a shotgun out from behind the counter and pointed it at him.

"I blow off your head if not!" she said, frowning and deadly serious.

Dempsey pulled his badge out of his back pocket.

"Me, police." he said. "I'll pay you, ok?"

Madame Beaudin grinned and lowered her gun.

"Okay." she said, satisfied. "You eat?"

"Yeah, thanks." replied Dempsey. "But er I want a telephone."

"Yes, follow." she said and scuttled off down the main corridor, Dempsey behind her. She showed him into a back room and pointed to the telephone, he nodding his thanks and picking it up.

"Collect call. No money needed, you understand?" he said.

"Oui monsieur." she said and left the room.

Spikings answered his call.

"Chief." said Dempsey. "I'm holed up in a small hotel right now. The dough has gone to a big house near the Arc de Triomphe, but I ain't sure how long it'll stay there. When can you get here?"

"We'll be with you by midday at the latest, Dempsey." replied Spikings. "I'll get on to the police there, now we know where the money is. They can keep an eye out."

"How do you know they won't screw things up and raid the place." said Dempsey. "Get all the guts and glory!"

"They'll only stop anyone from leaving, trust me." said Spikings, who'd already covered that very scenario with French inspector assigned to the job.

"Okay. How's Harry?"

"She's got some smoke damage to her lungs." replied Spikings. "But it hasn't caused any lasting injury. She's going to be kept in hospital for a few days. I've been in touch with her father and he'll be with her as we speak, I'd imagine. If all goes to plan tomorrow you should be with her yourself in a couple of days."

"Okay, thanks boss." sighed Dempsey, relieved she had Freddy with her. "I'll be at the address tomorrow waitin' for you."

"Yes, get some shuteye." ordered Spikings. "So far so good."

Harry had woken up again and found her hand being clutched by Freddy, his blue eyes concerned and looking intently at her.

"Daddy." she croaked, looking back at him, worry in her eyes. "What are you doing here? Where's James?"

"Don't try and speak, darling." said Freddy. "You need to rest. James is still on the case you were involved in."

"But where is he?" her voice hoarse, struggling for breath, a tear beginning to form in her eyes.

Her sixth sense told her he was in a dangerous place, his life at risk and all she wanted to do was find him and go to him.

"Harry, he's okay. He can look after himself." said Freddy, not knowing exactly where he was as Spikings hadn't told him. "He'll be here sooner than you know."

She tried to get up, but fell back exhausted, the medication designed to keep her calm and sleepy doing its job. Tears of frustration and worry began to fall from her eyes, Freddy wiping them away gently. He placed the oxygen mask over her mouth again, her breathing steadying as a result.

"Darling, you must rest." he said. "The smoke hasn't done your lungs any good and you must let the medicine help you recover."

She continued sobbing for a while, before falling asleep again, Freddy stroking her hair and wiping her tears away.

In France, Philipe de Cadenet's house had been kept under surveillance all night, with no activity being reported. Inside, the sight of four million, six hundred thousand pounds in cash had been cause for celebration and even when Jacques mentioned that Max had accompanied them to Paris, little was made of it. Basically, what happened to him was of no concern, they'd got their money.

Hani Ahmadi was able to settle his outstanding debt to Philipe together with a quarter of a million pounds for his back pocket, Philipe happy to retain the rest to swell his bank account.

They had checked the notes and swept them with marker pens, so, ironically, the forger had made such a good job of it, he'd effectively duped his own side.

Dempsey had enjoyed a fillet steak cooked by the hotel chef and a couple of glasses of red wine, then crawled into bed and fell asleep with minutes. But he was up early and after a continental breakfast of coissants, jam and coffee had made for the nearest bank to cash a cheque and pay Madame Beaudin before she could find reason to poke the shotgun in his face again.

He then whiled away a couple of hours before finding his way to de Cadenet's house, but his trained eye noted the presence of a couple of unmarked police cars.

The time was approaching eleven thirty and he was waiting for the rest of SI-10 to show up.

At three am that morning the team had met at the SI-10 offices and then set off in a convoy of five cars to Dover, catching the cross channel ferry at six, docking at Calais at seven-thirty and eventually disembarking at eight o'clock.

Three and a half hours later they were entering Paris, heading for the 8th Arrondissement and their date with Philipe de Cadenet, Hani Ahmadi and the rest of the ruthless gang who had tried to blackmail a prominent English peer, kidnapped his daughter, threatened her life and that of her mother and nearly killed Harry.

The boys were spoiling for a fight.


	13. Chapter 13

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**13.**

Friday, December 4th.

At the best of times, Harry was never far from Dempsey's thoughts.

The fact that she was laid up in hospital now, recovering from being caught in a near fatal explosion only served to flood his mind with pictures of her.

Her beautiful face, soft sensuous lips, light blonde hair, exquisite figure and ocean blue eyes that looked at him with such love in them, left him feeling breathless many a time, even when she was beside him.

Now, as he waited impatiently for the rest of the SI-10 team to join him, those images were ever more acute, especially as he could somehow sense her presence, hear her voice telling him she was beside him in spirit, not to worry about her, but to get the job done and come home to her, hail and hearty.

She was waiting for him.

When she woke up that same morning, she felt a little better. Freddy was still, stalwartly, beside her bed and she smiled at him, squeezing his hand that had hardly let hers go throughout the night.

"Hello Daddy." she whispered, hoarsely. "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine, darling." he replied, smiling back, but unable to hide the concern in his eyes. "Do you feel any better?"

She nodded, then appeared to drift into a dream, her eyes glazing over as if she were in another place, her hand letting go of Freddy's.

Images of Dempsey's handsome, grinning face, soft brown eyes and strong arms that she so loved to hold her, had rushed into her mind.

"I'm there with you, darling." she whispered suddenly, twisting her engagement ring around her finger, Freddy about to answer before realising it wasn't he she was referring to. "Come home to me, safe and sound. I'm waiting for you."

Then she seemed to wake up, taking a second or two to focus on where she was, before glancing at her father again.

"James?" he asked, searching her face, knowingly.

She nodded, her eyes watery now, not because she feared for his life any more, just that she missed him so much.

"I'll keep him safe." she whispered again, then drifted into sleep once more, two solitary tears rolling down her cheek and onto her pillow, her right hand still clutching the third finger of her left.

By the time the SI-10 team had arrived, parked their cars and assembled, it was close to midday, Dempsey pointing out the house to them.

They were accompanied by Francois Durand, the French inspector Spikings had liased with prior to leaving London.

During the night, the home of one of de Cadenet's henchmen had been raided and he'd been taken to police headquarters. There, having tried all the politically correct means of extracting information only to get nowhere, they subjected him to waterboarding, eventually prizing de Cadenet's contact number out of him.

At midday precisely, that number was dialled.

"Oui!?" snapped de Cadenet, annoyed at being contacted without prior agreement.

"Monsieur de Cadenet." said Inspector Durand. "This is the police. Your home is surrounded. Come out now, with your hands above your heads."

"What is the meaning of this!?" replied de Cadenet, still trying to work out how the police had got this number.

"You are in possession of stolen money, extorted from Lord Jonas Cosgrove-Hartley in Britain." answered Durand. "We know all about your activities. Now surrender yourselves or we will come in and get you."

"So be it!" replied de Cadenet slamming the 'phone down and turning to Rene. "Get the guns ready, we're about to be raided!"

Spikings ordered half of the team to break in through the back of the property, while he, Chas, Dempsey and Durand accompanied two French policemen with a battering ram up to the front door fashioned out of stout oak.

"You're gonna need a goddam tank to get through that!" growled Dempsey, drawing his Magnum and smashing a downstairs window with it, before clambering inside, followed by the other three, the two policemen stoically continuing working on the door.

As he hit the floor the other side of the window, something told him to roll to his left, which, having done so, he saw Gaston about to fire at him.

He unloaded two bullets into him, the power of the Magnum lifting Gaston clean off his feet and throwing him backwards against the wall, his dead body sliding to the floor, blood gushing from his chest and neck.

Spikings, Chas and Durand landed safely and bounded up to the rooms entrance, their backs against the wall either side of the doorway and quickly peered into the hallway beyond.

A bullet richochet'd off the doorframe, the shootist crouched on the vast, galleried stairway.

Spikings returned fire, covering Dempsey as he sprinted into the hall and up behind a wood and glass display cabinet. Another bullet clattered into it, wood splinters flying off in several directions, Dempsey immediately firing back in the split seconds it took for his opponent to re-focus his aim.

Another bullet hit the cabinet. Shattered, splintered glass crashed to the floor, Spikings taking that instant in time to step out from the doorway and fire, his bullet finding its target.

The gunmen's dead body slid down the stairs and lay sprawled in a heap at the bottom, a hole where his right eye had been.

Dempsey immediately rushed to the stairway, both Chas and Spikings watching for the emergence of another gunmen. Stepping over the dead body, he sprinted to the top, Magnum held in both hands, hammer cocked, arms outstretched, his finger already partly squeezing the trigger.

Downstairs, he could hear shots as Josh, Jon and Terry exchanged bullets with two other villains.

Dempsey had no idea of the number of guys at large, but counted up anyway as he moved stealthily along the landing.

Two dead, two perhaps three, currently engaged downstairs, de Cadenet and Ahmadi still around somewhere and some more hiding out.

Suddenly a sixth sense caused him to swing round one hundred and eighty degrees and there, facing him about to fire, was Jacques.

In the split second he pulled the trigger, Dempsey had dived to one side, firing back as he fell, again his Magnum finding the target, Jacques dead before he hit the ground.

"Thanks tiger!" he whispered, knowing instantly Harry was with him and, swallowing back the emotion that engulfed him and missing her like hell he, at the same time, thanked God she wasn't mixed up in all of this.

Taking several deep breaths to steady himself, he moved slowly along the landing again, carefully replacing the four bullets already spent. Locked and loaded once more he stopped to listen, sure he heard voices coming from a room nearby.

Crouching down on his haunches he crept up to the door and pressed his ear against it.

He could plainly hear two men talking, sometimes in raised voices, and reaching out slowly, gripped the door handle, slowly cocking the hammer of his Magnum at the same time with his other hand.

After mentally counting to three, he twisted the handle and launched himself at the door.

It was locked!

As he bounced off it, several bullets from a sawn off shotgun, smashed through the door's woodwork, narrowly missing his head as he flung himself backwards.

If he'd been standing up, he'd be dead.

Lying on his back he fired at the door handle, shattering it, the door swinging open as he rolled off to one side. As he lay there momentarily, Rene appeared on the landing and he had his gun pointed directly at Dempsey.

An evil smirk crossed his lips as he cocked the hammer, but as he squeezed the trigger his eyes turned wild with shock, his knees crumpled from under him and he collapsed onto the floor, Chas coming into view directly behind him, the barrel of his revolver smoking.

Rene's bullet has whistled past Dempsey's ear, another inch to the left and it would have blown his brains out. Dempsey saluted Chas, then gesturing towards the room, held up two fingers.

Chas nodded and, backed up against it, slid sideways along the wall to the door's edge, his gun held in both hands and resting against his chest, pointing upwards.

"Ok you two." called Dempsey. "If you wanna stay breathin' chuck ya shooters out or we're comin' to get ya. Either way you ain't leavin' that room free."

"Go screw yourself, stinking pig!" yelled de Cadenet.

"Dear me, you got it bad!" replied Dempsey. "Guess you wanna make a fight of it, huh?"

To all intents and purposes, this was stalemate.

They couldn't come out and he knew, that they knew, it was taking a huge risk for him to go in.

But he, therefore, had the element of surprise.

"In a few seconds from now, there'll be another six guys out here all waitin' for an excuse to blown ya head off." he said. "You gonna be sensible an' take the easy road or make it tough on ya'selves."

"Go to hell!"

"You first!" shouted Dempsey and, rolling across the doorway, from one side to the other, he fired off four shots in rapid succession, two of them hitting de Cadenet in the shoulder and arm, one other catching Ahmadi in his thigh.

Chas followed up and rushed them, kicking de Cadenet in his face as he tried to fire his shotgun, Dempsey charging into Ahmadi as he levelled his revolver at him, the gun going off, the bullet embedding itself in the ceiling.

Several hundred miles away, Harry suddenly woke up and laughed. Freddy, who'd been dozing in the chair next to her bed, sat up in astonishment and looked at her.

She glanced at him, smiling broadly.

"He's okay!" she croaked, her eyes shining." He's coming home. He's safe, Daddy!"

"How on earth do you know?" he asked, conscious of their unique telepathy, but still staggered at witnessing it working before his very eyes.

"I just do." she said, gripping her ring again, more tears, this time of relief, beginning to form in her glistening blue eyes.

In Paris, Philipe de Cadenet and Hani Ahmadi were taken to hospital with a police escort, the rest of the gang hauled away and thrown into cells, the dead bodies collected and taken to the mortuary.

The conterfeit money was loaded into a couple of SI-10 cars and, having arranged for the extradition of the two main protagonists to face trial once they were fit to travel, the team headed back to the UK.

On disembarking at Dover, Dempsey was driven back to Saltdean to fetch his car and he didn't waste any time in driving straight to the hospital.

Walking into the private room, clutching a huge bouquet of flowers, Harry was sound asleep, Freddy still there by her side. He stood up quietly and hugged Dempsey to him, shaking his hand and slapping him on the back.

Then, with his finger to his lips, he quietly exited the room, leaving Dempsey to sit down beside the bed.

He sat there staring at her sleeping face, noticing her breathing was still a little erratic and trying hard not to kiss her. His love for her almost overwhelmed him.

And his resolve didn't last long.

Still clutching the flowers, he leaned across to kiss her lips and, as always happened, her sixth sense kicked in, her eyes flying open, her arms reaching around his neck as she pulled him to her, their lips locked together for what seemed like a lifetime.

Eventually, they came up for air, Harry flushed with passion and happiness and looked at the flowers in Dempsey's arms, now somewhat crushed from being caught in their embrace.

"Oh dear." she croaked, reaching out for them, her eyes then widening with surprise. "They're real!"

"Sure honey, 'course they're real, what else?" he said.

She waggled her finger at him, Dempsey knowing exactly what she was referring to, since the last time she'd been hospitalised he'd brought her a bunch of plastic flowers, only for her to chuck them back at him, angrily.

"And this." he said, delving into his inside pocket and producing a single red rose, still, miraculously, in tact.

That had happened before too and, like last time, she put the flower to her nose, luxuriating in its sweet aroma. Unlike before though, this time she grabbed his collar and pulled him in for another lengthy kiss.

Their privacy was interrupted by both the doctor and Freddy entering the room.

"You must be Lady Harriet's fiance, James." said the doctor, extending his arm to shake Dempsey's hand.

"Yeah, that's right, doc." he replied. "How's she doin'?"

"It's going to mean a few more days with us, I'm afraid." said the doctor. "But she's making good progress. Her lungs are repairing well and her airways too. There won't be any lasting damage, I'm pleased to say. Had she been exposed to that smoke five minutes longer though, it would have been a different story."

"Hmmm, livin' in an' around London ain't gonna help, is it?" remarked Dempsey.

"Ah well I have the perfect recipe for you and Harry." said Freddy.

Harry knew what he was about to say, and watched Dempsey as he said it.

"Why don't we go to my chalet in Klosters, Switzerland over Christmas." he said. "The air is fresh and pure, just the ticket to sort you out Harry, darling."

"You have a place in Klosters?" said Dempsey, looking at Harry in amazement, then at Freddy's smiling face. "You never said."

Harry looked all coy and innocent.

"A girl has to have a few surprises up her sleeve, Dempsey." she half croaked, half whispered, but the effort taking it out of her, even though she couldn't help smiling.

"That would be excellent." said the doctor. "But as you can see, Lady Harriet still needs a lot of rest."

"Come on, James." said Freddy. "Stay with me in London while Harry's getting better. We can keep each other company."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan, Freddy." replied Dempsey, leaning in to kiss her. "'An you, honey, I'll see you tomorrow. We got a weddin' to go to in a week. Be a shame to miss it after all the trouble the bride's been in!"

Harry nodded, smiled, then closed her eyes, the excitement of the last fifteen minutes taking its toll. She fell back to sleep.

Dempsey visited her every day and each time she was better. After five more days she had recovered completely and it was a joyous moment when he finally collected her from the hospital the following Wednesday evening and drove her home.

Whilst Dempsey mixed them some drinks and lit a fire, Harry deposited her bag in their bedroom, then showered and changed into a short, black, thigh skimming, almost see through nightdress - and nothing else.

Whilst lying in her hospital bed, worrying about him, missing him, loving him, wanting him and desperate for him to return to her unharmed and safe, she had dreamt about this very moment when they were home together, the wintry night blocked out and a log fire roaring in the fireplace.

He was sitting on their huge sofa, sipping his whisky, Frank Sinatra crooning 'Come Fly With Me' in the background, when she walked through to the lounge and stood in front of him, his eyes slowly moving from her face to her breasts and down her body to her tanned, shapely thighs, her passion fuelled by his hungry look, their need for each other now matched completely as she lowered herself onto his lap.

Their lovemaking lasted until the small hours of the morning, by which time they were ravenously hungry.

"What are we like!" giggled Harry as she whipped up some scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes and waffles, Dempsey only trusted with toasting the bread and making the coffee.

"Damned hungry, angel!" he replied, chuckling. "For everything!"

"You're insatiable!" she said, turning round and winding her arms round his waist, resting her head on his chest. "And I love you!"

"I felt you with me, ya know." he said, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. "Whilst we were dealin' with those bozo's in France, you were there somehow, right beside me."

"I dreamt about you." she replied, her head nuzzling his chin. "I dreamt I was your wingman - well woman, I suppose."

"We have somethin' that's fo' sure, tiger." he said, looking down at her, the love he felt for her plain in his eyes.

"Yes we do." she agreed, looking up into his eyes, mirroring him in every way. "Something very special."

He lifted her head to him and bent to kiss her mouth, his arousal once more unmistakeable as her lips sucked his and their tongues intertwined with each other.

"James." she said, reluctantly pulling herself away from him and giggling. "I must get out today and find an outfit for Arabella's wedding. It's the day after tomorrow! I'll never get there at this rate! You're coming with me, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Love watchin' you dress and undress." he grinned. "Especially undress!"

"Hmm, I wonder if it _is _a good idea to bring you along, after all." she said. "You might take advantage of me while I'm half naked in the changing booth."

"Be a first!" he chuckled.

"Wouldn't it just!" she giggled again, almost wondering whether they'd ever dare.

For the next couple of days they enjoyed just being with each other, the near miss Harry had with the explosion and Dempsey's subsequent danger in France cementing their relationship ever further and the love they felt for each other ever deeper.

Arabella's and Rupert's wedding went off without a hitch, guest of honour Julio Iglesias, topping off a memorable weekend's celebration.

On Monday December 21st, Harry, Dempsey, Freddy and Aunt Alice flew off to Klosters and spent Christmas and New Year in Freddy's magnificent chalet high in the Parsenne mountains, the breathtaking views, superb skiing conditions, Alpine air, apres-ski and fine dining making it one of the most wonderful holidays any of them had enjoyed.

Returning to SI-10 on Monday, January 4th, Dempsey and Harry couldn't help wondering what challenges 1988 would bring.

**The End.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Smile of the Tiger.**

**Authors note.**

Many thanks to all who reviewed this story. As ever, your comments are a joy to read. As is often said in here, it makes it all worthwhile to share one's imagination with others.

My thanks to those who followed it, too, some of whom haven't commented. It'd be great (I hope!) to read your reviews.

Another story is planned.

Best wishes to all.

Richard.


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